


Someone to Call Home

by kayteepotter7



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Bullying, M/M, Self-Harm, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 41,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayteepotter7/pseuds/kayteepotter7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason is the school's football star. Nico is the kid who sits in the corner by himself. When they get paired together for an english project, Jason learns that there's more to Nico than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jason's Point of View

"For your final this semester, I'm assigning you a project," Mr. Brunner begins. Inwardly, I sigh of relief. A project means one less class I'll have to study for. "Now, I'm giving you quite a bit of leeway here; your only guidelines are that it has to be a presentation- Yes, yes, quiet down. We haven't done a single presentation yet this year, and you all know that public speaking is one of our standards. It needs to be 5-7 minutes long and on one of the books we've read so far this year. You must demonstrate that you have a full understanding of one of the topics, themes, characters, etc. It'll be due the last class period before winter break, meaning you have two weeks to complete it. Are there any questions?"

Someone in the back of the class speaks up. "Do we get partners?"

"Ah, Yes,-" The class cuts him off to cheer. "But I've already chosen them for you," he finishes firmly, causing the class to groan collectively. Including me. Last time, I got paired with this girl named Clarisse. She didn't give me any say in anything, but bossed me around the whole time. Not to mention that she probably could have beat me up, despite me being on the varsity football time.

Mr. Brunner wheels his wheelchair around to the side of the classroom and starts reading out names from a list he's already printed out. "Piper and Leo…"

Ha, that sucks for her. Leo's been a close friend since elementary school, but I wouldn't want to do a project with him. He's this scrawny kid who spends all of his time in auto shop and never stops moving. Or talking.

"...Octavian and Reyna…"

That also sucks for her. Octavian is another scrawny kid, only instead of just being annoying, he's also an asshole.

"… Percy and Frank, Rachel and Grover…" I zone out until I hear my name. "Jason and Nico, Will and Travis…"

Fuck. I sneak a look back at him, and his look of annoyance probably mirrors my own. Nico di Angelo is quiet, friendless, and, if I'm being completely honest, a little bit creepy. He's dressed in all black with a skull both on his black shirt and a silver ring he wears on his finger. He wears an aviator jacket that he almost never takes off. His jeans are dark wash and ripped at the knee, but unintentionally, like they're just really old. His hair is dark, too, and curly. He never quite meets anybody's eye, and he seems to have perfected the art of blending into the shadows. He only moved here about a year ago; he lives with my friend Percy, because his parents didn't want him or something. I'm not really sure; there are a lot of rumors going around about him. I guess working with him wouldn't be that bad if it weren't for my friends. How do I put this? They've not exactly been very nice to him. I feel sorta bad about it, but I haven't done much to stop them either. And I mean, he kind of makes himself an easy target, sitting alone everyday with a pair of headphones in. But he probably hates me now, and sort of looks like he could kill me at any moment.

Awesome.

Mr. Brunner's voice interrupts my thoughts. "I'll give you the last few minutes of class to meet with your partner and brainstorm. Remember, I'll be checking to make sure both students give in equal effort!"

Reluctantly I begin to gather my things and head towards Nico, but when I turn around, he's standing right in front of me. I jump. He's already on the floor picking up my things before I even realize that I dropped them.

"Sorry," he says timidly as he hands me back my things. Weird. I didn't really expect him to have good manners, especially because he looks like if he could have killed everybody in the room by now, he would have.

I sit back down in my chair as he pulls out another from the desk next to me. As he does, I notice that his hand is shaking.

"So…" I say, unsure of exactly where to begin. "Got any ideas?" Maybe if I let us do what he wants, he won't be so bad.

He just shrugs. His apparent nonchalance is ruined by his shaking hands and his jiggling legs. I wonder what's making him so nervous.

I try again. "What's your favorite book we've read so far this year? As long as it's not Shakespeare, I'm down for anything," I say lightheartedly. He doesn't smile.

He considers this for a moment, then quietly speaks. He has to repeat himself because he's so quiet the first time. "I really liked To Kill a Mockingbird," he says. His voice shakes.

"Oh, yeah, me too!" I say a little too enthusiastically. He looks at me like I've grown another head. I cough. "Um, yeah, we should do that."

He continues to stare at me as I wait for a response. I realize that I'm not going to get one, and continue talking. "What do you want to do then? We could analyze themes, characters, I don't know," I say exasperatedly. "Help me out here."

He just looks up at me, with his big, dark eyes, and it's like he can see right through me. Like I'm transparent. It scares me a little bit, but I meet his eye anyways. We hold eye contact for what seems like ages, before he finally opens his mouth. "The bell's about to ring. Can we meet at your house-?"

"No!" I interrupt him, a little too loudly, and a little too quickly. Oops.

My mom doesn't exactly appreciate company. And even if she did, she would probably make even Nico uncomfortable.

He looks at me strangely. "Uh, my house then?

"Oh," I say embarrassed. "Uh- Yeah, I've got football though, 'till 5:30. You live with Percy, though, right? I've been there. And it's only a couple blocks from me, I can just walk."

He merely shrugs and nods before the bell interrupts the class and everyone scrambles to leave. He rushes off and disappears out of my sight before I realize he left his English textbook behind. I hurry out of the door, turning right and left and right again before I catch a glimpse of him turning a corner.

"Hey Nico!" I shout, but he doesn't hear me. "Nico!" I begin to jog, only to get yelled at by a teacher stepping out of his classroom. I resolve to walk quickly, saying "excuse me" repeatedly as I push my way through the crowd of kids on their way to lunch. I finally catch up with him, saying his name as I tap him on the shoulder.

And he flips out. He nearly jumps out of his skin, dropping his books everywhere, and, before I know it, I'm pinned against a locker, the lock digging against my back.

"Dude, what the hell?" I choke out. His forearm is blocking my throat and I can barely breathe.

His eyes widen in realization and he releases me. I see an apology start to form on his frantic lips, but it doesn't get any farther than that. Instead, he says, "I don't like to be touched. Don't ever do that again." He's threatening for someone so small, for someone who has to stand on his toes to even reach my throat. His cheeks are bright red, too, and I can tell he's embarrassed. That, or I really scared him. Maybe a little bit of both. People are staring at us as they walk by, and he looks around worriedly, before stooping down to pick up his books. Is dropping our books going to become a regular thing? I lean down to help him.

"You, um, forgot your English textbook," I say as I thrust it into his arms.

His cheeks turn an even darker shade of red when he realizes I was trying to help him, before he went all crazy on me. If I'm being honest though, I feel like I should be angry, but I'm not. I just feel… bad. I feel bad for him, I think. And confused.

He's been pretty much completely unresponsive to everything and everyone ever since he came here. He never speaks in class. He sits by himself every day. He ignores almost everyone who tries to talk to him, even when they shout cruel names. He talks to his half-sister, Hazel, and his cousin, Percy. Percy and I are friends- well, sort of. Acquaintances, really. Oh, we like each other, but there's always been a bit of a competition between us, as two of the most popular guys in school. We've hung out a few times, though, and have always gotten along relatively well. Percy won't talk about him, though. He half-heartedly tells off anyone who says mean things about him, but that's as far as he goes.

But anyways, this is the most I've ever seen him talk. And I'm not entirely sure what to make of him anymore. I could just write him off as being creepy and a loner, but… I don't know. I have this feeling I can't shake as I walk to lunch. What would have made him so nervous? And so jumpy?

After practice, though I'm exhausted, I walk to Nico's house. It's not a long walk; I've been in Percy's room, and you can see the school from his window. It looks like it's about to rain, though, and my hair is still wet from the shower, and all I have on is a thin sweatshirt. By the time I reach his front doorstep, I'm shivering and my hands look blue. I've barely pressed the doorbell when Sally, Percy's mom, opens the door. She's wearing a cream sweater with a pair of plaid pajama pants, as though she hasn't left the house all day. I'm betting she hasn't; she owns a pizza shop with her boyfriend, Mr. Blofis, who also teaches at our school, but it's doing so well that she rarely has to go in. She uses the extra time to work on a novel she's writing.

"Oh, come in, come in, you look freezing!" She says, and I am, so I do. The moment I walk in, warmth covers me like a blanket. She ushers me further inside and sits me down at their kitchen table, across from Mr. Blofis.

"Dinner should be here soon, we ordered Chinese. Would you like some hot cocoa?" She asks, though she's already pulling out a mug before I can answer. "Paul, would you get the others?"

"Percy! Hazel! Nico!" He shouts, his voice carrying all the way up the stairs.

Sally turns away from the milk she's heating up and reprimands him. "I could have done that!" He shrugs and shamefully looks down at the floor, repressing a smile. Percy comes bounding down the stairs first, and then Hazel.

"Hey man," Percy says casually, already in a pair of pajamas with little surfboards on them.

"Hi Jason!" Hazel says sweetly, as always. She's wearing a long white nightgown with a sweatshirt thrown over it, and her hair has been lazily thrown up. Paul and I are the only ones who are actually dressed. That is, until Nico comes down the stairs.

He's still dressed, but he's changed out of his clothes from earlier. For once, he's not wearing his aviator jacket, but a white long sleeve shirt. His jeans are black too, but he ruins the look by wearing a pair of purple fuzzy socks on his feet. I eye them questioningly, and he glares at me. Wow, this is off to a great start.

Sally walks over to me with a mug of hot chocolate right as the doorbell rings. "Ah, that'll be the Chinese!" She pays the delivery guy, who does not look happy to be out in this weather, and thanks him. When she gets back to the table Nico is still standing up.

"Mrs. Jackson, do you think Jason and I can take ours to my room? We should really start our project," he says politely.

It seems odd to me that he's still calling her "Mrs.", but apparently she doesn't. "Of course, sweetie, whatever you need. Do you want me to pull out some trays?"

"No, that's okay. Thanks though." He walks over to the kitchen and pulls out two plates and some silverware. He hands me a plate and we both help ourselves before heading towards the stairs. I can't help but notice that there's barely anything on his plate.

Apparently, everyone else notices too. I can see concern etched upon their faces as they watch him, and I can see him tense up because he knows. Hazel speaks up. "Is that all you're going to eat?"

He stops, so I do too. He paints on a smile and says, "Yeah, I had a big lunch today." Then he continues up the stairs while everyone else looks around as if they want to argue, but don't.

I can't help but wonder what all of that was about.

His room is the first on the left side of the hallway. It's a lot different than what I expected: it's not so dark. The walls are a pale blue, almost like you would see in a newborn baby boy's room. His bed is against a slanted wall and is covered in a patchwork quilt of every shade of blue I can think of. There's a dark wooden nightstand next to the bed. On it sits a white lamp, a few half-empty water bottles, and a copy of A Game of Thrones. I smirk to myself; he's a geek. The bookshelf on the other wall holds Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Hunger Games, and dozens more I've never seen before. Next to the bookshelf is a desk of the same dark wood. It's stacked with textbooks and there are some loose papers, but it's relatively neat. His closet doors are shut and covered with posters of Doctor Who and some bands I've never even heard of. The window shares a wall with the bed, and its white curtains are parted to reveal a window that's closed, but has no screen. The screen leans up against the wall underneath it, leaving me to wonder if he ever climbs out to sit on the roof. I know I would.

He sets his plate down on his nightstand and sits on his bed. I notice that even in the safety of his own room, he's jiggling his legs up and down. His breaths seem shallow. Do I make him that uncomfortable?

I look around uncertainly, before eventually deciding to sit down on the floor. He looks at me strangely, but doesn't say anything. We hold eye contact again, and a silence falls over the room. It's not broken until my stomach lets out a loud growl.

"You can eat, you know,"

So I do, but he doesn't. I almost question him on it, but I decide that I don't want to make him angrier at me than he already seems to be.

I take a bite of orange chicken and look up at him. He sighs, and finally speaks, but as though it pains him to do so. "So we're doing To Kill a Mockingbird then?" He sounds oddly out of breath.

I swallow. "Uh, yeah," I say. "That's cool with me. We could do it about innocence, you know, as a theme. Or we could do racism," I finish, taking a sip of what's probably the best hot chocolate I've ever tasted.

"How much do you want to bet there'll be at least five other groups who do that?"

As soon as he says it I know it's true, but it still irritates me that he's so critical of my ideas when he hasn't given one. "Okay, well then what do you suggest?"

He glares at me, though I'm not sure if it's intentional or not, and I shiver. "We could always analyze one of the characters," he says. He shrugs though, as if he's purposefully attempting to look nonchalant again, like he's afraid of sounding stupid.

"Yeah, we could do that," I say, grateful that he's giving me something to work with. "Which one though? Scout, Jem…"

He shrugs again. "Maybe we could… I don't know, I think it would be interesting if we did Boo Radley,"

This takes me by surprise. I guess it makes sense that Nico would take an interest in him. Boo was a recluse, Nico's a loner. I have a feeling that Nico would lock himself up alone and away from people if he was given the choice, too.

"Yeah, um, that works. I mean, we're not given very much information on him though."

"You're right," he says, shaking his head. "We can just do Atticus or something."

I don't know why I say what I do next, but it seems like a good idea. "No, I think we should do Boo. We can talk about the different things that might have like, affected who he became."

He looks at me as if he's surprised by my answer, but doesn't say anything.

I continue. "And we can talk about how he must have felt, too, with so many people making him out to be a monster, or some kind of tragic story."

The way he looks at me changes again, like he's more than just surprised. Like he's confused, or like he's never seen me before. He stares at me, and after a while it becomes uncomfortable so I stare back at him. He turns bright red, and then goes pale. His eyes widen and he stands up quickly.

"Um, yeah. I'm just gonna go to the bathroom really fast. Wait here."

He stands up and rushes out of the room before I really even process what he said.

Okay, what was that all about?

Hazel barges in almost the second Nico disappears down the hall.

"Hey, did he-" She cuts off, eyeing the untouched plate on his desk. She sighs, and says, "Of course not."

"Uh, what?" I say stupidly.

"Do you think you can tell me if he eats that or not?"

"Um, yeah, sure," I say.

I've always liked Hazel. I don't know her that well, but she's good friends with my best friend, Piper, and she's dating this guy on my football team, Frank. She's only 13, but she's already a freshman. She has dark skin, cinnamon colored hair, and warm, gold eyes. She's just about as sweet as she looks, and I can't understand how she's related to Nico. She came to live with the Jacksons shortly after Nico did, when her mom passed away. Their dad- Now that I think about it, I don't know where their dad is; Percy won't say anything about it. But anyways, she would have just gotten stuck in the system if it weren't for Mrs. Jackson. From what I understand, getting her was nearly impossible, but I guess they thought it would be good for Nico. I think they must have been right, seeing how she's the only one he ever shows any affection towards. But he still doesn't seem to be doing very well.

I want to ask her what's going on with him, but I don't. Why should it even matter to me? Once this project's over, we'll never have to say another word to each other. But I can't help but feel curious.

Hazel smiles warmly at me, but she still seems exasperated. "Thanks, Jason," is all she says before heading back down the hall.

Nico takes what seems like ten minutes to return. In the meanwhile, I finish my hot chocolate and most of my plate. I start to wonder if he's ever going to come back when he appears in the doorway.

"Sorry about that," he says with a shaking voice. He crosses the room and sits back down on the edge of his bed, with his feet on the floor.

He doesn't look any better than he did before. "Um, are you feeling okay? I mean, we can always do this later if you're not-"

That's when I notice that his white sleeve is turning dark red. He's bleeding.

"Dude, what-?"

He notices me looking down at his arm and does the same. "Shit," I hear him mutter as he jumps up from his bed. "I, uh, must have- I must have scratched it on-"

Something dawns on me; this is an all too familiar scene. I stand up and step closer to him. "Nico, did you-"

He jumps away from me, like a scared cat. He backs up straight up into his bed and falls onto it. I hold up my arms in surrender, like I have to let him know I won't hurt him.

"It's okay, man, calm down," I start. I walk closer to his bed and kneel down in front of it. "Let me see, yeah? I can help. That looks- that looks pretty serious." And it does. His forearm is completely soaked, with three different lines of dark red running together. Three different, completely straight lines.

He shakes his head, and seems to struggle to find his voice. "I don't need any help. I just scratched it. Just- just go away. We can do this later," he pleads. I should listen to him. I shouldn't get involved in this. But for some reason, I can't tear my eyes away from him. Maybe because I've seen this before.

I grab his arm, gently, at first, but he struggles against me. I grip it tighter, and he's no match for me. I could easily break him in half.

"Let me go!" He protests, and I know I should. I barely know him, and here I am, invading his privacy.

"Nico, did you do this to yourself? I mean, like, on purpose?"

He looks me straight in the eye and says, "Fuck off."

But I don't. I use my other hand to reach for his sleeve. I pull it up, and-

He slaps me hard across the face.

It takes a minute for the shock to register before I stumble back.

"Leave," he says.

And so I do.

By the time I get home, I'm still trying to process what the hell just happened. My cheek is still stinging; he must have hit me pretty hard.

Nico cuts himself. I feel surprised, but part of me thinks I shouldn't be. All of the signs were there. The long sleeves, the isolation, the sad look he's always wearing. I should have recognized it sooner. He's the third person I've known to do this to himself.

I walk into the front door and see that my mom is already asleep on the couch. Her arm is draped over the side, and she has a knife held loosely in her hand. I sigh. She usually sleeps with one under her pillow, for fear someone will break into the house in the middle of the night. I pry it gently from her hand and set it down on the coffee table. Then I scoop her up in my arms and carry her down the hall to her bed. I can do that, because I doubt she weighs more than 90 pounds.

I tuck her into bed and kiss her goodnight.

I remember the first time I realized my mother was sick. It was only about a week before my dad left. I guess that's because when her crazy became too much for him to handle, it was also too much for her to hide. Sometimes, I think I can almost understand why he left; I know that she's not easy to take care of. And I know he probably felt that he shouldn't have had to take care of a grown woman, because I feel that way sometimes. But mostly, I just feel angry at him for abandoning her, and leaving a nine year old kid to watch over her. I barely even knew what was going on. But I didn't have a choice; I couldn't leave like he could. I sometimes wonder if he ever thinks about us, or if he just walked away and never looked back.

The weekend before he left, she had been crying more than usual. I mean, she always cried a lot. I remember feeling sad that she was sad, but I don't think I realized how abnormal it was for someone to be that sad. That Saturday night, I think, I woke up from a nightmare; I had those all the time back then. I heard this loud sobbing coming from the bathroom. Of course, I automatically assumed there must a monster, or a robber or something. But what I found was worse. My mom was sitting in our bathtub, with steam rising up all around it, and the water stained red. To this day, I have this image of her like that stuck in my head, with a razor blade poised over her wrist. Her eyes in it are wide and frantic, the way Nico's were today.

When I was fourteen, I found out that my best friend Piper did the same thing. She's gay, and figuring that out was a really confusing time for her. When she told me, I was supportive, but she started bawling in the middle of our conversation. And by bawling, I mean ugly, snot-dripping-down-her-nose bawling. That's when she told me what she had done, and when I started to cry too. I told her about my mom and, after that, she stopped. I mean, it was a lot complicated than just stopping, even though she had been doing it for only a few months, but I think what I told her scared her enough for her to make a genuine effort. Now, at 17, she's completely happy, and so is her girlfriend, Reyna.

But for some reason, I have a feeling Nico's case is more similar to my mom's. Piper was alone and confused and I don't want to understate how hard it was for her. But my mom… Like Nico, she's skin and bones because she barely eats anything. She carries around this little notebook with her, and in it, she records everything she eats. And she's usually too anxious to even leave the house; she only does if she absolutely has to. I assume Nico must be anxious, too, given the way he was shaking. And… his arms were really, really fucked up. Most of Piper's scars are white lines, where his are red and purple and raised from the rest of his skin. Even the ones that looked like they were old.

I wonder how long he's been doing this.

I wonder why.

And I decide that I'm going to help him. I'm not going to be like my dad and abandon people I can help.


	2. Nico's Point of View

The next morning, I consider playing sick to stay home. Jason is the last person I want to see, and he just so happens to be in four of my classes. Lucky me. He probably thinks I'm crazy, especially after last night. I don't know why I did that. Cutting, in the middle of the evening with Jason in my room and my family already worried about me. It was stupid, and crazy, and- God, he better not tell anybody. Especially not Percy. I can't handle him knowing something that personal. Not anymore. It's hard, trying to keep my distance from him while living five feet apart from each other. If he knew…

And he would tell Ms. Jackson, and God knows what she would do. I've worked so hard to keep it a secret and Jason just undid it in like, twenty minutes. I just- I got so scared, and I couldn't even breathe. Or think straight, apparently. I thought it would calm me down. And it did. It always does. But I guess I went a little deeper than I meant to. I couldn't stop the bleeding for a long while, even after Jason left. I almost got caught by Hazel, too; she barged in right after I finished hastily throwing on a sweatshirt. She's already upset with me anyways, for not eating enough. I feel bad about what I'm putting her through; I know she's worried about me. But she can't help. And it will probably hurt her less if she doesn't know.

I don't even know what Jason was thinking during that whole fiasco. I mean, he didn't seem like he thought it was funny or anything, but I can't be sure. If I'm being honest, I kind of thought he seemed like he was… concerned. Like, the way he grabbed me- his touch was so gentle. And he forced my sleeve up. What was that about? It's not like he's ever paid me a second thought before. Why would he be worried? It's not like I care if he is or not. Why would I? He's just another stupid jock. Although… I keep thinking about something he said.

When we were talking about our project, he seemed to...understand something important to me. About how Boo was made out to be a monster. I don't know, maybe it's dumb and I'm analyzing this too closely. I just didn't expect he would care about something like that. He obviously doesn't know what it's like to be seen as a freak. Or to be a joke, a spectacle for all of the normal people to laugh at. Even the ones who are actual decent human beings look at me like they would a kicked puppy, or a homeless kid on the street. And I get this all so often that I'm starting to think it's true. It's almost like I don't get to decide who I am. Who I am to the world depends on how other people see me. The rest is insignificant. I figure that everybody has this inner world that nobody ever really knows about, except for maybe a few people. Our own worlds matter to us as individuals, but we're the only ones who get to live in them, so they don't affect the outside. In the scheme of things, they don't matter. Who I really am doesn't matter. And to be honest, I try to keep it that way. I'd rather them see me as a kicked puppy and a freak than to have them really see me. It's better to deal with their laughter, and their pity, than to have them all disgusted with me.

Jason would never understand that.

Anyways, I ultimately decide to go to school; If I stay home, Ms. Jackson will coddle me all day. By the time I get to school though, I regret my decision. I feel as though my heart is going to burst through my chest.

First period I have Spanish with Jason.

To my not-so-pleasant surprise, Jason is the only one in the classroom when I walk in, besides our teacher. Usually, he's late. Just my luck: when he sees me, he stands up and follows me to my desk. Unsure of what else to do, I ignore him and sit down as usual. He kneels down next to my desk so that I can see the top of his head. I can feel his eyes on me, and eventually get too uncomfortable, so I look at him. It's almost unfair that he's so good looking, because it make it really hard for me to stay focused on hating him.

"Look, Nico," he begins. "I just wanted to say that-"

"I don't want to hear it," I snap. I'm surprised at how firm my voice sounds. "It's none of your business. And I swear to God, if you tell anybody, I'll- I'll ruin you."

Despite my threat, he looks relieved. "Is that what you're worried about? I'm not-"

The bell cuts him off. The rest of the class has filled in by now.

"To your seat, Mr. Grace," our teacher says, pointing at Jason and then to his desk.

Jason stands up but doesn't walk away yet. He just stands there staring at me with his shockingly blue eyes, sending shivers down my spine. It's almost as if they pierce through me. He keeps them on me as he speaks, leaving me feeling naked and vulnerable. "Don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm not like that. I don't- I don't think that this is funny. Or anything to be embarrassed about."

Then he's gone.

I don't understand. Why would he care, if it wasn't for the opportunity to make an even bigger joke of me?

It's only five minutes later when I get hit in the back of the head with a paper airplane. It falls to the floor and I pick it up to throw away when I notice that there's writing on it. I turn around.

Jason is staring right at me.

I'm tempted to let him see me throw it away without reading it, but I'm far too curious for that. I open it. Scrawled in neat, vaguely feminine handwriting, it reads:

I'm sorry for acting like a dick yesterday. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.

I was just worried about you.

Please don't ignore me. I only want to help.

Um.

What?

He's actually trying to apologize?

Or is this some sort of trick?

And anyways, it's not like yesterday was the only day he acted like a complete asshole. He's always been that way. At least, his friends have always been douche bags, and he's always been content to stand by and watch. It's fucked up, and that makes him just as bad in my book.

I crumple up the paper without looking back; the hairs on my neck are standing up so I know that he's still watching my every move. I toss it nonchalantly into the trash, hoping he'll take it as a sign. The bin is only about three feet away from me. I'm kind of surprised I don't miss, if I'm being honest.

There's no way he's just doing this out of the goodness of his heart. If there's any good in there, where is it when I'm getting tripped on the stairs, or pushed into lockers? Or when I'm getting called "cocksucker" and "pansy" and "fairy"? Good people don't stand by and let those things happen. Good people don't just pick and choose when they feel like being decent human beings. They don't just take breaks. No, he's just like every other popular kid at this school: obsessed with looking cool and preoccupied with how the rest of the world perceives them. He must be planning something. If he thinks I'm really that gullible…

When class is over, I rush out.

Math class passes even worse. Since the semester ends in less than two weeks, our teacher hands out slips with our current grades on them. And lets just say: oops. I'm usually a straight A student. Or I was. My sophomore year I finished with mostly Bs, which I guess isn't too bad. But now I'm failing chemistry, and apparently algebra 2. Even Percy is doing better than me. It's not like the lessons are hard or anything, but a few months ago, I got… bad. I stopped trying and paying attention and doing homework. I barely even showed up. After that, I never really caught up. And sometimes I still get really bad.

I don't even bother paying attention to today's lesson; I don't think there's any way I can get a 40% to a passing grade in two weeks. I spend the class period imagining how I'm going to explain this to Ms. Jackson.

Next I have chemistry, which doesn't go any better. We got a study guide for the final today, and it looked like it was written in a foreign language. There's no way I can pass that.

I'm actually relieved when it's time to go to lunch. Usually, that's my least favorite part of the day. Who the fuck wants to be stuck in a noisy, smelly cafeteria where most of the kids are acting like apes rather than humans? I walk to my usual spot in the back of the cafeteria, next to an exit. I sit facing the rest of the students, because the last time I turned away I ended up with a "kick me" sign on my back. It took me longer than I care to admit to figure out what was going on. Anyways, the point is, I don't take my eyes off the others.

Apparently, though, that doesn't stop them from tormenting me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something hurtling towards me, and before I can even process what's happening-

I get hit square in the face with a carton of applesauce.

What the fuck.

After the initial shock wears off, I look up and- of course. It's Dylan.

Dylan is what you might think of as a stereotypical football player; by that I mean huge, egotistical, misogynistic, homophobic and an asshole. He's been pushing me around ever since I got here. On my first day here, he welcomed me by tripping me as I walked past him. Somewhere along the line, he decided my name was "faggot". Sometimes, if I'm lucky, he uses my nickname: "Emo shitlord". Creative, I know. My nickname for him is a lot worse than that.

He's cracking up, smacking the table, surrounded by a bunch of other football players. They're all doing the same. I feel as though time slows down. I vaguely register Jason sitting one table over from them sitting completely still as if he's frozen in shock. I suddenly grow hot, and probably turn bright red; I'm fuming. I don't even like applesauce, much less in my hair and all over my clothes. And I can feel dozens of eyes on me. The cafeteria is too big for everyone to have seen, but all of the tables in the near vicinity are staring. It's enough to trigger my fight or flight reflex.

But because I'm not only scared, but also pissed off, I decide to choose fight. But I don't get very far. I start storming towards Dylan's table, but something stops me. It's Percy. I run right into him and stumble back, but he catches me. Then he pushes me toward the exit, despite my protests. A gust of cold air hits me as soon as he opens the door that takes us outside behind the school. It's pouring rain.

"Are you okay, man?" he asks, voice mingling with the pitter-patter on the pavement.

Deep down, I know he's trying to help, and deep down, I know I don't even have a very good reason to be mad at him. He's a good guy. His green eyes search me for an answer. But he's the last person- well, one of the last people- I want to be with right now. My anger is bubbling over the surface, drowning out all of the deep down thoughts. So I explode.

"Go away!" I scream at him, way louder than I should. Hopefully there's no one on yard duty out here.

He takes a few steps back from me. It gives me a sort of cruel satisfaction to know I'm making him nervous. "I just- I thought you might… I thought I could help."

"Well you thought wrong," I snap.

He takes a few steps back from me. It gives me a sort of cruel satisfaction to know that I'm making him nervous.

"My mom will come and pick you up, if you want, probably," he says lamely.

His mom. Not my mom. I don't have one of those anymore. Ms. Jackson is great, but she's not mine. Their house is not my home. And I don't want to go back there; I feel just as trapped there as I do here.

I storm off, leaving Percy bewildered. Behind me, I hear the door open again and someone calling my name. It's Hazel. Fortunately, I hear Percy telling her to leave me be. I don't know if she'll actually listen, but I don't turn back to check.

I have to walk all around the building to the school's side doors. I'm shivering violently by the time I get there. The hallway is deserted, luckily, but I still race towards the bathroom. When I enter and see myself in the mirror, tears that had been stinging my eyes begin to fall. I'm a mess. There's applesauce in my hair, on my face, my jacket, my shirt, and even my shoes. I didn't even know one container could hold that much applesauce. My cheeks are bright red, and so is my nose. My face is puffy from crying. And all of this is worsened by the fact that I look emaciated.

How did I get reduced to this?

I go to lock the door but instead, I get hit in the face again. I stumble back and a breathless Jason pushes through.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"Can't you just leave me alone?" I shout, even though I can't seem to tell up from down. Unlike Percy, he doesn't back away. He doesn't even look away.

Maybe I'm just less threatening when I'm soaking wet, clutching my head, and too dizzy to stand up straight. He has to help me down to the floor- which, fortunately, was cleaned today. I'm too disoriented to feel embarrassed.

He continues to stare at me for a moment, wrestling with his words. Finally, instead of speaking, he grabs some paper towel and wets it in the sink. He comes back and hands it to me. I'm kind of surprised that he doesn't try to touch me again. Maybe he was actually paying attention.

"I have an extra shirt in my locker if you want it," he offers. "I think I've got some sweats, too."

I shake my head as I wipe my cheek off.

"Come on, you can't go around like that for the rest of- Oh," he seems to realize. "You can take my jacket, too, if you're worried about…"

I don't respond. It's tempting, but I still don't want to accept his help. I still don't know why he's here. Plus, I don't know what people would say if I went around in Jason's clothes all day. That would draw way too much attention to me. But… he seems so sincere. If it was anybody else, I would believe he they wanted to help. I search his face, and his eyes, and I can't find anything mean, or cruel, or guilty.

With difficulty, I stand up and head towards the sink. I run the water and, reluctantly, I dunk my head under. Immediately I jump back; It's fucking freezing. As if the 40 degree weather wasn't bad enough. But, deciding I prefer the cold to chunks of apple in my hair, I try again. When I get it all out and come back up, I feel as though I might turn blue.

That's when Jason begins taking his clothes off.

"My locker's all the way on the other side of the campus and you're shivering worse than a Chihuahua. You take these."

He first hands me his letterman jacket. It feels weird actually touching one of these things- I never thought that I would. Then he pulls off his sweatshirt and I feel my breathing go shallow. His shirt comes up with his sweatshirt, exposing his midriff and-

Stop. Don't think of him like that.

He bolts out the door before I can even say anything.

I lock the door after he leaves. Oh, I'll let him back in. I just don't want him to walk back in while I'm changing. As I shrug my jacket off and pull my shirt over my head I pace the room. Jason's sweatshirt is huge on me but soft and warm enough to make up for it. His jacket is even bigger. It really doesn't help my appearance; it dwarfs me, making me look smaller than I actually am.

Part of me is tempted to just leave. Not back to the house. But I can't think of anywhere that I wouldn't feel just as trapped as I do in this tiny bathroom. My heart has become a pounding drumbeat in my chest. It sounds much louder than it should, accompanied only by my ragged breathing and the echo of my footsteps on the tile. I keep pacing, faster and faster as my anxiety grows higher and higher. There's still anger there, too. Anger at Dylan, anger at Jason. At Percy. At me. But the anger only increases the adrenaline and worsens the fear. I feel, in a weird way, powerful, but vulnerable at the same time. I can't explain it. I just feel like I'm about to lose control. It's not a good feeling.

I really don't want Jason to see me like this. If he really does want to help-which is unlikely- then I feel bad for needing so much help. That's two breakdowns in less than 24 hours. Way to go Nico. But there's a higher chance he's looking for a way to humiliate me. I'm doing a good enough job of that myself, thanks. I sit down again with my back against the wall. I rock back and forth and try to control my breathing, like Bianca taught me to do when I was younger. After a few minutes, it starts to work.

There's a pounding on the door. "Let me in!" a voice says. "It's Jason!"

I don't know why I do as he says.

He does a double take when he says me. Then he smirks.

"What?" I demand. I know I look ridiculous, but that doesn't mean he's allowed to laugh at me.

"Nothing," he says, though the smirk on his face doesn't disappear. "Do you want these sweats?"

Hesitantly, I nod. He hands them to me. "Um, can you…"

"Oh," he says, realization dawning on him. "Right." He turns around. I was actually asking him to step outside, but I guess not.

I wriggle out of my jeans with difficulty- they're soaking wet and sticking to me. It's kind of gross. I pull the sweatpants on and roll up the ends because they're about six inches too long.

"Are you done?"

I nod before realizing that he can't see me. "Yeah," I croak.

When he sees me he can't help but laugh. I scowl at him and turn to leave but he blocks my path. "No, Nico, I'm sorry! I'm not trying to be mean. You just look-"

"Ridiculous, I got it."

"That's not what I was going to say," he says earnestly, though he looks embarrassed.

I give him a bewildered look, but he doesn't explain. A long silence follows, and he blushes. He actually blushes.

"Hey," I hesitate. "Thank you for doing this."

His blue eyes meet mine and it's like he can see right through me again, but I think I can also see through him. And I just know that he's being sincere. I think I knew from the beginning, but sometimes, if you know something like that, it's easier to pretend you don't. It's easier to push the deep down feelings even further down than to deal with what they might mean. And in this case, it means that, for whatever reason, he wants to help me.

But that doesn't mean he can.

And it doesn't mean he wouldn't change his mind the minute he got close enough to see what's going on inside of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your lovely reviews :) xxx


	3. Nico's Point of View

I’m curled up in my bed staring out the window at the falling rain when there’s a knock at the door. I quickly grab a book from my nightstand so that I look busy before I tell whoever it is to come in. Hazel enters, carrying two mugs of what she knows is my favorite- pumpkin spice tea. She hands me one of the mugs before sitting down across from me and crossing her legs.  
“I heard what happened at lunch today. I would have followed you, but Percy told me not to. From the look of it though, Jason took care of you just fine on his own,” she says.  
I shrug, taking a sip of tea. “It wasn’t a big deal.”  
She looks up at me sharply and says, “Yes it is. You don’t have to lie to me.”  
“I’m not,” I argue. “Dylan’s an idiot. I know that. It’ll come out of my clothes.”  
She looks hurt. She opens her mouth, and hesitates. “Look… I know that- I know that I’m not Bianca. But I’m still your sister. I know she was there for you when your parents weren’t, and I want to be too. That’s what family’s supposed to do for each other, right? You were there for me when my mom...you know.”  
Shit. Well now I feel terrible.  
Bianca pretty much raised me. After our mom died, our dad just sort of checked out. I was ten at the time. She was only twelve, but she looked out for me. She was the only to look out for me in a world full of people more than willing to just throw me aside. She was safety and stability, and then she was gone.  
I’ve only known Hazel for about a year. Already though, she’s gotten through my defenses better than anyone else. It’s not that I don’t trust her; I don’t want to burden her. Hazel is what’s good in the world. If people were colors, Hazel would be yellow. Like sunflowers, and those happy face stickers, and everything light and bright and beautiful. Like the sun, making everything else around it grow. She always sees the good in everyone; always sees the good in me.  
But there’s something dark in me, too. And she doesn’t deserve to deal with that.  
I set my mug down on my nightstand and lean forward to kiss her on the forehead.  
“Stop,” I say. “Don’t- don’t do that. You guys are both my sisters, and I love both of you. And I do trust you.”  
She looks at me strangely. Maybe because I referred to Bianca in the present tense. Anything else would feel dishonest. She doesn’t acknowledge it.  
“If you do trust me… Can I ask you something?”  
This takes me by surprise, but I nod. I figure she’s going to ask about my eating habits.  
But she doesn’t.  
“Are you- please don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t mean this in a mean way- but… are you gay?”  
This really takes me by surprise. I mean, she’s not wrong. But I don’t know where she got it from. Pretty much the whole school likes to call me homophobic slurs, but I don’t think she would take any of that seriously.  
“I- Uh- Why would you think that?” I stumble over the words and feel myself grow red in the face.  
She examines me carefully. “It’s just- I don’t know, sometimes it’s- sometimes the way you look at Percy…”  
Oh.  
Yeah that.  
I didn’t realize I was that obvious.  
“And once I noticed that I started paying more attention. You don’t notice girls the way other boys do. I mean, I’ve never met a guy, who likes Game of Thrones, who isn’t head over heels for Daenerys,” she smiles.  
She does have a point.  
If she had asked me that question a year ago, or even a few months ago, I would have been frantic to deny it; I hated myself for it. But after doing my research, I’ve realized I have better things to hate myself over. Who I feel attracted to isn’t something I can help. I just never really thought about coming out, because I don’t see the point. No one wants to date me, gay or straight.  
“Are you there?” Hazel waves her hand in front of my face.  
“Oh yeah. Sorry. Um- yeah. Yes. I am,” I say embarrassed.  
For a minute, she looks surprised. I don’t think she thought I would tell her. But then she smiles, and hugs me. She’s the only person I know who can actually get away with doing that.  
“Well, I think it goes without saying, but just in case: it doesn’t matter to me. We’re siblings, no matter what. Well,” she pauses. “As long as we get one thing straight,”  
Ironic word choice.  
“What?” I ask.  
“Jon snow is mine,” she says with a mischievous smile. At that, she takes her leave.  
“Goodnight, Nico.”  
When she’s gone, I finish off my tea before turning out the lights. Even with the tea warming my insides, I’m shivering. I curl up again under the covers, still wearing Jason’s jacket, which I put back on after I showered. I couldn’t really tell you why. But it smells good.  
I drift off to the lullaby of the rain and wind against the window. 

~~~

At lunch the next day, Jason is already sitting at my usual table by the time I get to it. He’s eating the school lunch from a tray as if he intends on staying there.  
He looks up at me. “Nico!” he says, overenthusiastically. I swear, he acts like a puppy dog.  
“Uh, what are you doing here?” I ask. Maybe, after yesterday, I should try to be a bit nicer to him, but, you know.  
He taps the seat next to him, beckoning me to sit. I do.  
“Everyone’s staring at us,” I say through gritted teeth, and it’s true. It’s not every day that someone like Jason is seen with someone like me.  
“Yeah, well, at least they’re not throwing applesauce. Besides, I wanted to see how you’re doing.”  
“I’m good,” I say, without looking at him.  
“You’re still wearing my jacket,” he observes.  
“Oh,” I blush, and fumble to take it off. “ I brought it to bring it back, but you weren’t there first period-”  
“Keep it,” he says. “It’s freezing in here, and I’ve already got one on. As for this morning, I had a- a family situation.”  
I stare at im for a moment before pulling the jacket back up. He’s right; it’s freezing.  
I wonder what he means by “family situation”, but I don’t think it’s my place to ask. At least one of us knows when to mind his own business.  
There’s an awkward silence before he asks me if I’m going to eat anything. I say no and leave it at that; I don’t owe him an explanation.  
He narrows his eyes on me but leaves the topic alone. “There’s something I wanted to tell you.”  
Um. “What?”  
“You’re probably wondering why I haven’t left you alone since…” he trails off.  
“I’’m not so much curious as annoyed,” I snap, though my voice shakes as I do. Fuck social anxiety.  
He looks taken aback. “Oh, uh- I- well- just-”  
I raise my eyebrows at him.  
“I just know what you’re going through, okay? I mean, I’ve not like, personally experienced it or anything, but my- I know people who have.”  
Does he think that means he knows me? He doesn’t know anything. To be honest, I’m kind of insulted he thinks he can group us all together.  
He continues. “My best friend, Piper- you know Piper, right? Mclean. She has english with us. She used to, you know, cut herself. Sometimes she’d burn herself too, like with a lighter. Back before she was with her girlfriend Reyna, and she was trying to figure out her sexuality. It was hard enough for me to see her like that, and scary. I guess I can’t quite understand how hard it was for her. But I do know that nobody deserves to feel that way.”  
“While I appreciate the thought,” I say sarcastically, “you don’t know anything about the way I feel. I’m sorry she went through that, and everything, but it has nothing to do with me. I’m not going through a sexuality crisis. She’s nothing like me.”  
I have to take a deep breath after I finish. I think that’s the most I’ve ever said to him.  
He takes a while figuring out what he wants to say next.  
As he does, I watch him. The more I do, the more confused I get. There’s a part of me that feels like I know him, but when I try to rationalize that feeling, it doesn’t make any sense. I still feel like I can’t figure him out. Or maybe I can and I don’t want to accept it because when I really see him I don’t see what I thought I would see. Seeing him deep in thought, if only for a few second, tells me more about him. When people are preoccupied with their thoughts, they don’t have time to be anything but honest. The more I see of Jason, the more I see that he is good and pure. In that way, he reminds me of Hazel. Only, if he were a color, he’d be blue. The color of his eyes. His blue is peaceful and calm, and vast like the sky, with something lurking more beneath, like the sea. But he’s sincere. Even when I’m looking at him in an honest moment, he’s not any different from any other time.  
“Piper’s biggest issue wasn’t that she’s gay. It’s that she felt alone. And it hurt. She had all of these things going on inside of her, and she needed some way to express them. She felt like she couldn’t talk to anybody. She couldn’t ask for help. So she expressed it all on her own skin.”  
As he speaks, his eyes piercing through me, I feel an ache begin to grow inside of me. Jason just somehow logically explained what’s happening to me. The words tug at my chest, and I get this terrible pang of longing, though I’m not sure what for. When I try to speak, words don’t come.  
He takes my silence as an opportunity to keep going. “It’s not just Piper-”  
What?  
But he seems to change his mind and never finishes his thought. Instead, he begins again with, “You’re right. I don’t know what you’re going through. But I want you to be able to tell me. To tell someone. So that you don’t have to, like, take it all out on yourself and can express it in, you know, a less destructive way.”  
“You sound like a therapist.”  
“You sound like you’re using sarcasm as a defense mechanism.”  
“You sound like you need to mind your own fucking business.” I get up to leave. I don’t need to put up with this.  
“Wait,” he says. He reaches out to grab my arm but stops at the last second. Instead, he just says, “We don’t have to talk about this. I’m sorry. I just want to be friends.”  
Probably- most definitely- against my better judgment, I sit back down. Mostly because I don’t have anywhere else to go.  
An awkward silence follows. I’m getting used to these with him.  
“I’m Jason. I’m 17 years old and I’m a Cancer.”  
“What are you doing?”  
“I’m telling you about myself. One of the first steps to building a lasting friendship. So as I was saying. I play football and basketball. My favorite subject is math. I’m a dog person. I really like 80s music, though my guilty pleasure is Taylor Swift. I know, I know. Your turn.”  
I laugh but say, “I don’t remember agreeing to this.”  
“Well you can’t back out now, not since I shared my deep dark secrets.”  
For a second I wonder if he has any real deep dark secrets. There must be something. There’s always something. A skeleton in the closet.  
Not like I care. I can’t care, or I might let him care and I’ll accidentally start to care that he cares.  
“Come on,” he pleads. “Your name’s Nico, you’re… how old?”  
“16.”  
“Zodiac sign?”  
“Why would I even know that?”  
“Why not?”  
“I’m not, like, a sixth grade girl.”  
“I’m going to ignore that last comment,” he says, pretending to look offended. “Hobbies? Sports?”  
“Do I look like a play a sport?”  
“Well you never know,” he says defensively. “So what do you do for fun then?”  
“You make it sound as though sports are the default way to have fun.”  
“Well- No- I- Just answer the question.” I can’t help but note how much cuter he looks when he’s not busy being the star football player and he’s just a stuttering mess.  
I consider for a moment. “I like to read.” God, I must sound so dull to him. I guess no more dull than his obsession with sports seems to me, though.  
“Ah! A noble pursuit!”  
You know, I kind of had this idea of all popular kids being super composed and cool. I mean, besides Percy. But Jason’s ruining that; he’s just a huge dork.  
“How about school? Favorite class?”  
“History.”  
“Why’s that?”  
“Um, I mean, it’s kind of just like one big story, isn’t it? And you learn about a bunch of cool people. And it helps you understand how the world ended up how it is today."  
Maybe I got a little carried away with that one.  
He studies me carefully again, as if every time I say something he’s viewing me in a new light.  
“I like it too,” he says. “But I can never keep all the dates straight. Dogs or cats?”  
“Both. But also neither. They never seem to like me very much.”  
“Music?”  
That’s a hard one. I’m not really specific about what I listen to. I just like music that says what I can never find the words for, music that ignites that yearning deep within me. But I can’t say that to him, so I settle for, “I dunno, I like a bunch of stuff. The Goo Goo Dolls, Counting Crows, Matchbox 20, The Smiths…”  
“Wow, you… you have good taste.”  
I blush. “Thank you.”  
“I just like, you know when you hear a good song?” he begins. “And you get this feeling inside you, and it kind of hurts… maybe this is dumb. But it kind of hurts but feels good at the same time. It’s like nostalgia.”  
“Like… yearning? Longing?”  
“Yeah!” he says, excited that I know what he’s talking about. “It’s almost like it’s speaking some language you only understand at a subconscious level.”  
“I just…. I like music that sounds like what it feels like to be alive.”  
I tremble as I speak, afraid that I’m saying too much. But his eyes light up and a smile breaks out on his face like he knows exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me like that before. And as nervous as I feel, something inside me starts to feel warm and fuzzy.  
And it makes me want to run far, far away. To hide. To get away from this boy, this perfect boy, who will never understand, who will never stay. He can see me, he can really see me, and it feels too real. It’s the same reason I don’t like to be touched. I can get so disconnected from the rest of the world that things like a simple touch can make me feel disoriented and afraid. And here Jason is, trying to find his way in, trying to make a connection. But he doesn’t know that once he does, I won’t be able to get him out. The way I can’t get Percy out, can’t get Bianca out. It's not fair of him to force me to let him in and make me care and then leave. He can’t. But I’ll never tell him that my heart is too fragile for broken promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) So this chapter (chapter 3) will probably edited and improved at some point in the future, but I really wanted to get it posted. I also apologize that it's a really short chapter. But anyways, here you are! Enjoy xxx


	4. Jason's Point of View

There’s something about Nico. Something about him that’s driving me crazy. I never really considered that I could be anything but straight, and yet here I am, falling from the small boy from english with black clothes and sealed lips. But now that I’m thinking about him, I don’t know how I could have not noticed before. I know I definitely like girls, but I mean… Captain America is hot. And Nico… I can’t stop thinking about how cute he look in my jacket. Or how cute he looks when he’s flushed and nervous. Or when he gets excited about something. I don’t know how I could have ever written him off as being creepy. I mean, he’s definitely intimidating. There’s something… dark, and painful, inside of him. But he’s not dark. At least I don’t think so. I think he’s scared, a scared little kid who opts to push everyone out rather than let them get close enough to hurt him. But he’s hurting himself in the process. And my instinct is to protect him, because he needs it and because he deserves it. I know it doesn’t work that way, though. So I’ll just do what I can to show him that not everyone’s out to get him, and not everyone breaks their promises.   
The next day, Piper and Reyna join me at Nico’s table. While we wait for him to get here, I watch them. Piper’s choppy brown is is braided with a streak of blue and her purple eyeliner brings out the green in her hazel eyes. She’s rocking a shirt that reads “Be nice to animals or I’ll kill you”. Reyna’s got one that says “Feminism: the radical notion that women are people”. They both totally fit the lesbian activist stereotype.   
I love them both, but sometimes seeing them can make me realize how lonely I am. I mean, they’re both great. So are Leo, Frank, Percy, and a lot of the guys I do football and basketball with. But I don’t have someone who puts me before everyone else. Now, I don’t think that romance is more important than friendship. I just think that, most of the time, it’s treated like it is, and I can’t help but feel left out. Reyna’s sitting really close to Piper, so that their thighs are touching. Their feet are entwined underneath the table. I do think that they’re the reason I even still believe in love. They fit together so seamlessly, Reyna seemingly regal and intense and Piper sweet and spontaneous, though both fierce in their own way. Sometimes when I start to question love, all I have to do is see the way Reyna looks at Piper when she’s not looking. Even if love doesn’t last, I know it’s real. That means that it matters, right?  
When Nico approaches and sees Piper and Reyna, he starts to turn away, but I call his name and wave him over. He puts up so little of a fight, that I almost think he must want this. I mean, if he hates me as much as he says to, he would try harder to avoid me right?  
He’s polite to them when he sits down, the way who he is to everyone who isn’t a complete asshole to him, like I am, I guess. He doesn’t smile, but he says hello and introduces himself when they do.   
“Jason invited us to sit here. Is that okay?” Piper asks, as sweet as ever.   
He nods, but he’s wringing his hands and bouncing his legs up and down. I know that he doesn’t need to be nervous or afraid of them, but I wonder if I made the right choice in inviting them if he’s this uncomfortable.  
“Oh, hey, Jason, before I forget,” Piper begins. “Can you help me with pre-calc after school today? Reyna’s too impatient to be a good teacher,”  
Reyna pushes her playfully  
“Sure,” I respond. “What are you doing?”  
“Trig. I swear, Mr. D has no idea what he’s doing.”  
“Well, you know what they say. Math teachers never die; they just become irrational.”  
Silence. God, I am so underappreciated.  
“Did you… Did you just make a math pun?” Reyna asks, narrowing her eyes.  
I open my mouth to answer, but then I see Nico. He’s cracking up, covering his mouth. His eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and I note that he leans forward when he laughs. It’s funny, but then I realize that he looks like he’s in pain. That’s when he squirts milk out of his nose.  
When he recovers, he looks up, eyes wide in shock. There’s another awkward silence. Then we all burst into laughter simultaneously. We laugh so hard and for so long that we attract attention from other tables.  
Nico has a cute laugh Well, when he’s not choking on milk.  
When the laughter dies down, Nico looks up at me. “Wait,” he says timidly. “Are you good at math?”  
Before I can respond, Piper jumps in. “Are you kidding? He’s a genius. So’s Reyna. They’re both in calculus already?”  
His wide eyes meet mine. “I’m still in algebra 2,” he says. “And- And I’m failing.”  
“Dude, I can totally help you if you want. I bet I could get you to ace the final.”  
I hope that didn’t sound as cocky as I think it did.  
“Really?”  
He must be desperate if he’s actually asking me for help, considering he’s been so stubborn in insisting he doesn’t need any. I guess he thinks that his mental illness is more shameful than a bad grade. It doesn’t surprise me, even though he shouldn’t. I’m willing to help with both. With anything.   
“Of course,” I assure him.  
“What- What about biology?”  
“You came to the right place,” I joke. “Hey, you know why they should use chromosomes in advertising?”  
Reyna and Piper both glare at me, but Nico asks why. Finally, someone to appreciate my golden sense of humor.  
“Because sex cells,” I finish. Badum tish.   
Nico at least smiles. Reyna hits me over the head and tells me I’m an idiot.   
“Oh, hey, when do you want to get together to work on our project?” I ask Nico.   
“Oh, uh… Any time’s good,” he says. “You can come over tomorrow if you want.”  
“Cool beans.”  
Oh god, did I just say that?  
That’s when Piper reaches over, takes a roll from Reyna’s tray, and takes a huge bite into it.   
“Hey!” she protests.  
“What?” Piper asks innocently.  
“You’ll pay for that.”  
“Will I?” Piper raises her eyebrows.  
Reyna says nothing, but scoots her chair away from Piper. She folds her arms.  
Piper scoots closer to her again and does a perfect pouty face complete with puppy dog eyes. “You love me,” she says.   
I applaud Reyna’s self-control; Piper is seriously hard to resist, even if you’re not in love with her. Once, she talked Mr. Brunner into postponing our essay deadline another week. But Reyna is stubborn. Piper leans in close to her face.  
“You know you want to kiss me.”  
That’s when I pull my eyes away, and turn to Nico. He’s already looking at me. His eyes are dark and sorrowful, and in that moment, we form some kind of mutual understanding. I’m not sure how else to describe it. In that moment we both learn something important about each other. 

~~~

The next day, we’re joined by Hazel, Frank, Leo, Percy, and Annabeth. Surprisingly, Nico doesn’t look too uncomfortable. Well, I mean, no more than usual. But Hazel seems to help a lot, even though she’s pressuring him to eat. He does, sort of. Mostly he pushes his food around with a spork, but that’s more than he’s done than in the last few days. Reyna and PIper are sitting close again, holding hands underneath the table. Frank and Hazel are playing footsies. Percy and Annabeth are eating off the same tray. Then there’s Leo, who seems to be trying to build a catapult with his spork and a rubber band. That probably won’t end well. I’m sitting next to Nico. As gently, and discreetly, as can, I ask if he’s okay with everyone else being here. He looks me straight in the eye when he nods, and I believe him.  
“Leo, what the hell are you doing?” Reyna asks, disgusted; they don’t usually get along much.  
“I’m going to launch my mashed potatoes at Dylan, what does it look like I’m doing?”  
“There’s no way that’s going to work,” Frank says in disbelief.  
“You can’t just waste perfectly good potatoes like that!” Piper cried, outraged. “I’ll eat them!”   
“Pipes, you’re already going to eat mine anyways, given I think they’re disgusting. Do you really need three helpings?” Reyna asks exasperatedly.   
Piper sticks her tongue out at her.  
“She’s right though,” Percy interjects, his mouth full of potato. “Dylan’s not worth these absolutely glorious mashed potatoes. We should throw like, broccoli, or something. That’ll hurt a lot more.”  
Annabeth rolls her eyes.  
Nico looks at me and, so that nobody else can hear, asks if they all hate Dylan. I tell him that we have ever since Piper came out and he harassed her, convinced that he could make her “normal”. And then how he shoved Leo into a locker and left him there until a janitor heard him, like, an hour after school.  
“Plus,” I add, “they all think that what he did to you yesterday was pretty shitty.”  
He hesitates with what he wants to say next. “You guys have never cared before.”  
“What?”  
“Stuff like that- It happens every day. You know that. Don’t pretend you don’t.”  
Fuck. The worst part is, I don’t even have anything to say. I can’t defend myself. Hazel always stands up for him. Percy calls people out when they’re assholes. As for the rest of them- I don’t think they knew. But I did, and I never did anything. I mean, if I had seen them physically hurt him, I would have said something. At least I like to think I would have. But I’ve watched people call him horrible things without so much as opening my mouth. Guys on football and basketball- besides Dylan, guys I actually like- turned Nico into something to laugh at. And I guess I never really thought of him as a real person, with a life and story and personality as complex as my own. I do now. But maybe it’s too late. And maybe that’s the main reason he won’t trust me. How could he trust someone who could so easily dismiss him?  
He’s still staring at me, waiting for a response, while the conversation carries on around us.   
“I’m guessing ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t cut it?”  
I don’t think that was the response he expected, because he looks taken aback, but he still shakes his head.  
I just nod. “Okay.”  
“Okay?” He asks.  
“‘Okay’, as in, I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you.”  
He raises his eyebrows, but we’re interrupted by cheering from the rest of our table. Apparently, Leo’s catapult works; Dylan is modeling a lump of potato like a hat on his head as he gets up from his table and storms out. Everyone who can see is either laughing or speechless. Even the guys at his table can’t help but let a few chuckles escape.   
Nico’s smiling too, and it makes me happy even though I know he doesn’t smile much and even though I know he’s still upset with me. That’s when I truly realize that I don’t just want to prove that I’m not like my dad. I’m, not just helping him because I can’t help my mom. I’m not even being a good person. And I don’t just have a small crush on him. I just care about him, and seeing him like this- it’s breaking my heart.  
The rest of the week passes in pretty much the same way. We all have lunch together. Leo acts like an idiot. Percy and Annabeth, Frank and Hazel, and Piper and Reyna are all sickeningly cute, and make the rest of us jealous. Dylan glares at us from his table. Nico continues to join us even though he seems to hate everybody but Hazel, and for some reason, Reyna. Everyone tries to get him to eat. He doesn’t really, but he is becoming slowly more comfortable around us. I’ve gone to his house almost every day, just trying to fit in math, biology, and english. He still doesn’t trust me, but there are moments when I think that he could learn to.  
We don’t talk about what went down in those first two days, even though I'm curious. I want to know what hurt him so badly. I want to know why he's so afraid. But I don’t push him to tell me what’s going on. I’m just trying to make myself constant in his life, so that he knows I’m not going to leave. So that I’m someone who’s stable for him when he can’t be, and when he’s scared no one will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you guys think :)


	5. Nico's Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for SI.

I wake up freezing, even curled p in Jason’s jacket. I’ve decided that I’m going to hold it hostage for as long as I can, though it doesn’t smell like him as much as it used to. I realize that I forgot to close the window when I came in last night. Lucky for me, it didn’t rain. 

The winter sun is coming in through the window and shining on my face. The early morning air nips at my face and I bury it under the covers. The birds are chirping. I wish they wouldn’t. It’s like they’re trying to say “Hey, Nico! Get up! Time to start a new day!” But I don’t want to. I don’t even want to move. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew that today was going to be one of those days. I mean, most of my days are bad. There are bad days, and then thee are days like this. Days when I completely forget how to function and wish that my life had a pause button. Or maybe a stop button. I really wish the world would stop turning when I do. But it doesn’t even care enough to know that I’ve stopped. I turn upside down and further bury my face in my pillow. I don’t want to face it. I don’t want to face the world. 

There’s a weight on my chest. Something feels really, really wrong. It’s not just the usual sadness, or emptiness; there’s fear there too. Not just anxiety, but dread. I can’t remember the last time I felt this afraid.

And then I remember why; today is our English presentation. Nausea hits me in one big wave. I can’t do it. I can’t. Why did I trick myself into thinking I could? Maybe I just shouldn’t go. But I can’t abandon Jason like that. I never even should have worked on it with him. I should have told Mr. Brunner that I couldn’t do it, and let him pick Jason a new partner. But now he’s relying on me to do my part. I should have just taken a zero. A zero would have been better than this; surprisingly, I still have an A in this class anyways. I could have survived that. But getting up in front of the whole class? That’s a whole different story.

I have to spend ten minutes trying to control my breathing before grudgingly hauling myself up and heading towards the bathroom. I lock the door behind me and face myself in the mirror. I look the same as I did last night, and yesterday morning, and the same as I’ve looked for as long as I can remember, but I almost don’t recognize myself. I never do anymore. I look like I might drop dead at any second; my olive skin has paled and is tinted green, my cheeks are hollow, and my eyes are shadowed with dark purple bags. I remove my shirt and stare at my naked chest. It’s so skinny, it almost looks concave. My hair is past my ears now, but it’s gotten so thin. And then there are the scars. They criss-cross across both of my arms and my chest, and really don’t help the whole looking-like-a-zombie-thing. 

I turn away. I want to tell myself that a mirror’s just a lousy piece of glass, that the outside doesn’t count. But my outside has become a reflection of what’s inside. And it’s my fault; I cut and starved it nearly beyond the point of recognition. Because I’m sick. And I’m fucked up. And now I look it. 

I open my cabinet- the one on the left- and life up my bottle of mouthwash. Underneath it sits a razor blade. I pick it up and turn it over in my fingers. I just need to get through the day in one piece, and this is the only way that I can do that. It’s funny how I have to tear myself apart to hold myself together. 

I remove the rest of my clothes and turn the shower as hot as it can go. I climb in, wincing, and sit down on the floor. The water burns, badly, especially on my half-healed cuts, but I let it fall onto my skin and color me red anyways. Maybe if it hurts enough I can forget.

I just want to forget. I gasp in pain as I dig the blade into my already red arm. I want to forget about what’s waiting for me in English. I want to forget about Jason. About Percy. Not about Bianca, never Bianca. But I want to forget how cruelly she was taken from me. I want to forget how much it hurts to wake up. I want to forget how hard it is to fall asleep knowing that you’ll have to wake up in the morning. And I want to forget that it’s all meaningless. Everything I’ve gone through- meaningless. Existence is meaningless. Even as I think it, I feel the air go out of my lungs. I’m so small. So small to hurt so much. I’m smaller than it’s even possible to comprehend, and Bianca was too, or maybe still is. I still don’t know which. Either way, she doesn’t matter, and she’s gone now, and it hurts- it hurts so badly I sometimes feel I might burst- but that doesn’t matter either. There’s no point to any of it. It’s only humans who like to pretend there’s a purpose. We make up gods, and ideas like destiny, and fate, and karma, and it’s all bullshit. It doesn’t matter that I feel so afraid. It doesn’t matter that I hate Percy but love him too. It doesn’t matter that Hazel is too good a world this cruel, a world that ruined Bianca. It doesn’t matter that I’ve started to think about Jason in a way I know he’ll never think about me. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. 

But I want to forget all of that. The water burns, and the still-bleeding cuts sting, and the steam makes it even harder to breath. But it all feels real. Pain is real. I am real, I am real, I am real. 

I stay like that until someone knocks on the door to tell me to hurry up. After I dress, though it’s the last thing I want to do, I head downstairs to wait for Percy and Hazel to come down; I’m almost always the first one ready, and we always walk to school together, along with Annabeth. With long, beautiful blonde hair, gorgeous gray eyes, and a perfectly toned body from all of the sports she plays, it’s no wonder she’s Percy’s girlfriend. Along with Jason, he’s probably the most popular kid in school. Not only is he handsome, hilarious, and the school’s best swimmer, he’s also friendly, open-minded, and kind. He’s such a good person, you can’t really help but like him. He’s the kind of guy you’d expect to be the main character of a book or movie. I almost wish he had some awful secret of characteristic that could make me hate him, but after knowing him nearly my whole life, I still can’t find anything. And after all the hurt he’s caused me, I still get butterflies when he looks at me with those sea green eyes, and I still feel a twinge of jealousy every time I see him with Annabeth.

To my surprise, Percy, Annabeth, and Hazel are already in the kitchen when I get downstairs; they’re all making breakfast together. Hazel’s at the stove with a frying pan full of bacon. Annabeth’s spraying our waffle maker with Pam. Percy’s pouring blue food coloring into a bowl of pancake mix. He has flour on his nose and I can’t decide if he looks stupid or endearing. Probably both. As usual. 

Hazel notices me standing at the base of the stairs and says, “Hey Nico!” in a voice that’s unusually cheery, even for her. “Want a waffle? There’s bacon, too.”

Then it hits me, what they’re trying to do. They think they can pressure me into eating. Maybe it’s a test. But the smell alone is enough to make my nausea unbearable. And I was already nervous enough without the added stress of having to defend myself to them. I really don’t need this right now. I know that they just want to help, especially Hazel, and I know that I have lost a lot of weight lately. But it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose or anything. I’m not anorexic. After what happened to Bianca, I couldn’t even think of eating. Every one assured me that was normal, and that my appetite would come back. Which it did, somewhat. For a while. But I haven’t been able to hold down anything lately. I don’t remember the last time I had a full meal. I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, unless you count the three bites of hamburger I threw up at dinner. If I try to eat enough bacon and waffle to satisfy their worry, I’ll just throw it all up again. I know I should at least try, but- I can’t. I’m already trembling, and the thought makes me want to bolt for the door. 

So I just say, “Actually, I need to be at school a little bit early today, to ask my teacher about something.” 

Hazel’s face starts to fall, even though I know she must have expected me to give an excuse. She picks up her smile right away, though, and says, “That’s okay, take one to go, then-“

To my surprise, Annabeth stops her. I don’t know Annabeth very well, and while she’s always been kind to me, she’s never gone out of her way to talk to me. When she speaks, she’s direct and to the point. “Are you trying to starve yourself?”

Yup. There it is. I try to stay calm and nonchalant, even though I’m getting increasingly frustrated. “No,” I begin, attempting to sound confused. “Why would you think that?”

Hazel recovers from the shock of Annabeth’s question. “Have you seen yourself lately?” she demands. “You look like you could be in one of those ads for feeding the hungry. I can’t remember the last time I saw you do more than nibble on toast. And last night, when you excused yourself from dinner- we all heard you throwing up.” 

“I was sick. You can’t just assume I’m trying to starve myself,” I say calmly. Or at least I hope it’s calmly. 

Percy, who’s been quiet this whole time, and whose expression remains unreadable, speaks. “You don’t have to get upset. We just want to help.”

I meet his eye. “What makes you think I’d want help from you?” This is aimed directly at Percy, and judging from his hurt look, he knows this. But Hazel doesn’t.

“We’re you’re family! That’s what family’s for!”

Of course she goes there. She always goes there, because it’s a sensitive spot for both of us. We’ve both got a shitty father and a dead mother, and an adopted family that neither of us feel we quite belong in. All we truly have is each other.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” I say. I feel kind of bad for being a smart ass to her, but, you know.

Annabeth, of course, is the only one who’s still calm. “Look, we just think it’s strange how much weight you’ve been losing lately. It’s not healthy.”

“Right, so obviously I must have an eating disorder.”

“I know every one thinks that only girls have them,” she says. “But we know better. If only you’d just tell us-“

“Look,” I snap. “I don’t have time for this right now. I’m fine, okay? And I’d be a hell of a lot better if you’d all leave this alone.”

And then I storm out the door.. 

I break into a run with little regard as to where I’m going. All I know is that I can’t go to school. Not like this. Maybe by English I’ll be fine. I know I’ll get in trouble for ditching, but I don’t care. Depression has a funny way of making a person apathetic about everything. Then again, anxiety makes you care too much about everything. It’s a very confusing combination. I keep running anyways, though my heart is already pounding hard enough. I run out of my neighborhood, past the school, past the 7/11 on the corner. I find myself in another housing track. I keep running until I barrel straight into someone and fall backward. 

To my surprise, it’s Reyna. As she recognizes me, her expression changes from one of annoyance to one of shock. 

“Nico?”

“Reyna?”

“What are- Oh,” she stops, and helps me up before continuing. “What are you doing over here?” 

“What- what are you doing?” I stutter.

“I live h ere,” she says, confused.

Duh. “Oh. Right. Yeah.” Congratulations, Nico, you’ve managed to make yourself look like a complete idiot. Again.

She leans and looks behind me. “Are you running from something?”

“Um- no- just, you know, out for my morning jog.” I try to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. The running has exhausted me, enough that the anxiety has simmered down, though I feel like collapsing. 

She looks concerned; I know that she knows something’s wrong. She has a way of reading me, almost like Jason, but different. It’s like she knows who I am and where I am because she’s been like me before. Maybe that’s sounds crazy. But it’s not as strange as the way it feels like Jason has known me before. 

“I take it you weren’t planning on going to school?”

I shake my head. “Not yet anyways,” I say. For some reason, he presence makes me feel calmer. 

“Wanna go get a coffee? I was heading for school, but I’m happy for a chance to miss physics.”

This surprises me, but I nod. I feel like complete shit and I’m freezing; I should have grabbed my jacket, but that would have ruined the dramatic exit. A hot drink sounds perfect.

She gestures towards a truck next to us on the curb. “Hop in.”

I do. She goes around to the driver’s side and starts the engine. She turns up the heater, and it takes a minute to warm up, but when it does, I feel automatically ten times better. I rest my head against the door.

She doesn’t say anything; the whole ride to the coffee shop is silent. It’s comfortable, though, even though we barely know each other. My favorite people are the ones you can sit in quiet with, both completely absorbed in your own minds. Part of me is worried about what she’s thinking about me, but it’s a small part. The rest of me, for some strange reason, despite the events of the morning, is occupied with thoughts of Jason.

It started when I wondered what he would think of me if I didn’t show up to do our project. And I realized that I didn’t think he would be too upset with me. Maybe it’s crazy that I can feel myself beginning to trust him. I know he was shitty to me to begin with. But I just- I know he’s good; he reminds me of a superhero, like someone who you know is going to save the day in the end. Not that he can save me. But he’s got this laugh that sounds like it could cure cancer. And the way he looks at me sometimes, with concern etched into the wrinkles of his forehead. Sometimes, I even think it’s more than that. I think, sometimes, that he cares about me. That’s probably my craziest thought of all. But I care about him, even though I wish I wouldn’t. The butterflies that for so long were exclusive to Percy- they beat for Jason too. 

We pull into the parking lot of a cozy little shop. A bell rings as we open the door. When we get up to the counter, Reyna asks, “What do you want? I’m paying.” 

I try to protest, but she’s more stubborn than I am. She silences me, and so I ask for a hot apple cider; coffee, with all of the sugar and cream and everything they put in it, is too much for me. She orders it, along with a mocha for herself. We then sit down at a table in the back corner. 

“You know, I’m not sure why we even have school today, seeing as we finished the last of our finals yesterday,” she says. 

I shrug, tapping my fingers against the table. “I still have a presentation to do in English. In the rest of my classes we’re just watching movies.”

She crinkles up her nose. “I’ve always hated presentations. I take it you do too?”

I nod- just thinking about it makes me want to run away again. I am calmer now, but I still have a lot of nervous energy. And I know it’ll all come back when I get to school. “I’d think you’d be good at them, though,” I say.

She shakes her head. “I mean, maybe I am, but I still stress about them weeks before they even happen. You’re lucky you’ve got Jason, though. He’s a natural at that.”

“Yeah, what isn’t he good at?” I say before I can stop myself. 

She laughs. “One of life’s greatest mysteries. You know, I used to have the biggest crush on him.”

A barista interrupts, coming to set our drinks down before us.

“You? But aren’t you-“

“Gay?” She finishes for me. “No, I’m pansexual. And in case you don’t know, that means I like people of any gender. It does not mean that I have sex with pans.”

I have to struggle not to spit out the first sip of my drink. “Oh- I- Uh- I didn’t think…” I must look pretty alarmed, because she laughs.

She considers what she wants to say next, as if she knows what it is, but she’s not sure if she should say it. “I used to like Percy, too. I guess we have similar taste?”

This time I do spit out my drink. As I wipe it off the table with a napkin, I say something along the lines of, “What are- I don’t-“

Am I really that obvious? First Hazel, now Reyna. Who else knows? And if they know that, what else do they know about me?

“Relax,” she says, though amused. “They don’t know- they’re both as thick as walls. Piper’s the one who picked up on it, and she’s like a love expert.”

“You won’t tell?”

“Nope. Your secret’s safe with me,” she says, as she pretends to swear on a Bible.

“Oh, well, um- Thanks,” I say, awkward. 

There’s a break in the conversation. I try to busy myself in my drink but there’s a question that’s been on my mind all week.

“But he’s not… He likes girls?”

She considers the question. “To be completely honest, none of us really know.”

“Um, what?”

“We know he does like girls. He pined after Piper for a long time before he knew that he had no chance, but he’s over that now. Whether he likes boys… we don’t know. He doesn’t really fall for anyone very often. But, on the bright side, he has shown an unusual interest in you…”

I stutter, trying to come up with something, but end up staring at her open-mouthed. She smiles at me.

“You could always ask him.”

“Uh, yeah, not going to happen.”

She laughs. “I figured.”

There’s another break in the conversation as we both finish the last of our drinks. She studies me, and I train my eyes to look anywhere but at her.

“Will you be okay to go back to school?-“

I nod.

“-because I can take you home if you want.”

I shake my head, even though I wish she would. Nobody’s home right now, and I’d have the place to myself. But I can’t abandon Jason. And even though I think that, with Jason’s help, I did well on my Algebra 2 and Bio finals, maintaining an A in English will really help my GPA. 

I can see that Reyna doesn’t quite believe me, but she wants to. She doesn’t want to think I’m as bad as I seem to be. So she accepts it. We finish our drinks and pile back into her truck. Jingle Bells is playing, and it’s starting to rain again, and my heart hammers the entire way there. 

We arrive just as the bell rings, telling to students to change from their third period classes to their fourth.

As I’m about to walk away from Reyna, she grabs my hand and pulls out a pen. She writes down a number. 

“Call me if you need me.”

I have to blink back tears as I walk to class, though I’m not sure why. Now there are two people who it seems are willing to go out of their way to help me. Well, unless you count Hazel and Percy, and, because I’m still frustrated with them, I don’t, even though I know I should. 

When I get to Mr. Brunner’s classroom I sit down next to Jason; everyone’s sitting by their partners. He smiles at me.  
“I almost thought you weren’t coming,” he says.

“I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. I think I might throw up if I try. 

Mr. Brunner speaks, but I don’t hear most of it. The world feels like a movie on mute, and in slow motion. I don’t realize that he calls Jason and me to go first until the whole class turns and looks expectantly at us. Jason gets up, and I just stay there, frozen. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. 

Jason looks down at me, worried. “C’mon, Nico.”

I get up slowly. I can feel 20 pairs of eyes on me. 20 pairs of eyes burning into me, searching me, leaving me bare. I am left with nothing but fear. My face is burning and my bones are made of jelly. The world around me feels unreal. It takes all of my concentration to take a step to words the room.

It takes much less to turn and run out the door.

Running is the only think I can do right.

Running and hiding.

But familiar footsteps follow. Jason. He refuses to let me disappear, like I should have done long ago. 

I collapse against a wall because I don’t have enough oxygen to run anymore, but it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help, it doesn’t help, it doesn’t help. There is not enough air in the world. My breathing becomes shallower and shallower and I feel myself growing increasingly faint.

Jason kneels down in front of me but doesn’t touch me, because he knows better, but I almost wish he would. I wish he would because he is real and his touch is real and I feel like I’m made of nothing but smoke. 

His voice is calm even though I can tell that he is not. “Nico, you need to breathe.”

But I can’t, so he helps me. 

I breathe in and hold it while he counts to ten.

In. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

In. 

Out.

After a few minutes of this, a sense of calm settles over me, and then fatigue; panic is exhausting. Panic is your body using its every last resource to keep you alive. It’s only a problem when you’re panicking in normal situations. Then comes the anger, mainly at myself. For being such a fuck up. Then, of course, comes the shame. Overwhelming shame, crashing over me in waves. 

Jason interrupts my thoughts, coming to rest beside me on the wall. “You have social anxiety.” He says this as-a-matter-of-factly, which seems unfair to me. He can know that and say that without ever knowing what’s going on in my head. 

But I just not.

“Fuck, you should have told me, man,” hr says, but seems to change his mind. “I should have realized. He punches the ground, and I whimper. I should feel like an idiot for getting so scared; I’m acting like a child. But I’m worn out.

I’m worn out, Jason is close, and he feels like home. I want to lean in to him and let him shelter me. But something stops me. We stay like that, shoulder to shoulder, for a while, until Mr. Brunner comes out to talk to us. Jason jumps to his feet, but I remain sitting.

“You should have told me,” he tells me, just like Jason did, and it makes me want to scream. Maybe I should have. But don’t they ever stop to realize that that’s part of the issue? I can’t ask for help. I don’t ever want to let myself need somebody else. 

“I’m always willing to make exceptions for students with severe social phobias. I’m going to leave this project out on your report cards, but I expect you to come in to me during lunch on the first day back from break and do it for me.”

Jason nods, and I remain motionless, staring at the floor. “Thank you, Mr. Brunner, he says.”

Then Mr. Brunner wheels himself back into the classroom. Jason reaches out his hand to help me up. 

I take it.

He calls Reyna and she signs herself out from class, which she can do, given as she’s 18, and meets us in the parking lot. She drives us to my house without asking any questions. She waits in the car while Jason walks me inside. 

I sit down on the stairs, feeling like I could pass out at any second.

“C’mon, Nico, you can’t just stay there.”

I groan in response.

He sighs. “Get on my back. I’ll carry you upstairs.”

Because my defenses have already been weakened, I do as he says. He carries me swiftly and effortlessly to my room, helps me shrug off my soaking sweatshirt, and tucks me into my bed. 

I drift off almost instantly.


	6. Jason's Point of View

I find myself at Nico’s house for the second time today before I really even know why. I just want to make sure that he’s okay. But I stand outside debating whether or not I should go in for ten minutes before I actually do. Sally opens the door when I knock, and when I ask where Nico is, and if I can see him. She points upstairs and tells me that I can try, but that he hasn’t let anyone in all day. I head up the stairs and follow the hallway at the top, ending up in front of the room I know to be Nico’s and hesitantly, I knock twice on the door.

“It’s Jason,” I add when he, as I expected, doesn’t respond. A few seconds later I hear the click of a lock and Nico peers out at me, as if to make sure it’s really me, and to check that I’m alone. He opens it wider to let me in and locks it behind me. I take a good look at him.

He looks as cute as ever, but it’s obvious that he ‘s been crying; his eyes are still red as if he was crying just moments before I walked in, and the bags under his eyes appear even darker than usual, if that’s even possible. His hair is ruffled and sticking up in odd places. He’s in a pair of loose grey sweat pants and, to my surprise, my sweatshirt. 

“Hey,” he says, attempting nonchalance. 

“Hey,” I reply in the same manner. 

He steps closer to his bed and then falls backwards onto it, his arms open. He sighs and covers his face with his hands. After all that happened today, he seems to have let his walls down enough for me to see that he’s clearly not okay, but he still sees a little bit closed off. I’m sure he’ll build them back up soon enough, anyways. I sit down at the edge of his bed and look at him, though he’s still hiding beneath his hands. “Are you okay?” I ask even though it’s a dumb question.

“Fantastic,” he responds, voice dripping with sarcasm.

I pull my legs up onto his bed and turn so that I’m sitting cross legged, my knee barely brushing against his side. “Can I help?”

His response is sharp again. “Haven’t we been over this? I. Don’t. Need. Help. And even if I did, I don’t think you’d be the person I would go to,” he says. “Sorry,” he adds after a minute.

I choose to ignore the comment and address the real issue. “Nico, everybody needs help sometimes. It’s alright to admit if you do,” I say as gently as I can. 

Then I hear him sniffle, and I realize he’s crying. His hands are covering his face again. I reach over and gently grab his wrists to pull them away, but he lets out a gasp of pain and jerks away. He sits up and looks at me with wide, dark, fearful eyes. In this moment more than any other, it hits me, how small and fragile he is. 

“Nico…” I trail off, already knowing the answer to the question I’m about to ask. “Did you…?” 

He doesn’t answer because he knows he can’t lie to me, not after today. But I think he knows the way I feel like he can see through me, because I think he feels it too. He just continues to stare at me for a moment, like a dog caught in the act of destroying a room. Then he crawls past me and jumps onto the floor. He goes over to the window, places his hands on the windowsill, and lifts himself over it. I hear a small thud on the other side, and I follow him. 

Once I do, I find myself on a slanted roof looking out upon the night sky, and I join Nico, who’s already sitting with his knees to his chest. 

“You cut again?”

Looking out at the starry sky, he asks, “Did Percy ever tell you about my sister?”

This takes me completely by surprise. “Um, no- he didn’t,” I stutter. “I mean, we’re not really that close though, so…”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Does she go to our school?” I ask. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her-”

“No, she doesn’t,” he cuts me off, to my surprise. “She doesn’t go to any school, for that matter,” he continues, his voice trembling with the weight of what he’s saying. And I know it, I know what he’s going to say, and my heart almost stops.

“She’s dead.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Shit, Nico,” I start, unsure of how to respond. “I’m- I’d say I’m sorry, but… shit. I’m sorry.” I try to fit this in with the limited knowledge I have of him. He’s lived with Percy’s family for a year, ever since they moved here. His mom is dead. His dad disappeared one day, leaving him to Ms. Jackson. But...That’s it. That’s all I know. Though deep down, I had to know that he had some awful secret hiding in his past, I never expected something as terrible as this. 

Nico continues as if I didn’t just put my foot in my mouth. “She was my best friend in the whole world,” he says. He sounds so broken and alone. “I’ve always been sort of… shy. Sort of afraid. When I was a kid, they had to send me to a counselor because the anxiety got so bad that I refused to eat or sleep or go to school. But Bianca was always there for me. Even when I grew up, I still told her everything...Until last year, that is.

There was a party one night. Bianca really wanted to go; she had been begging my dad for weeks. He finally gave in, but only because Percy was going too. The Jacksons were our neighbors at the time, and they were really close family friends so she went with Percy. He promised he’d look out for her.”

He’s crying by this point. Tears stream continuously down his cheeks. I want to touch him, to hold him, to comfort him, but I know that he’s too far away; a year away, on the night he last saw his sister.

Nico continues. “Needless to say, he didn’t. He was drunk out of his mind, even though he grew up with an alcoholic father, and swore he’d never be the same. And she- she was too. Her friends were even more drunk, but they- they wanted ice cream. It was really late, and people were already starting to leave, but they decided to go to the store.” My heart sinks in my chest; I know where this is going. 

“Nobody stopped them. Nobody said, ‘Hey, maybe you shouldn’t drive when you’ve had so much to drink’. So they left, 5 girls in total. This girl, Zoe was driving. Later we found out that she had a BAC of .24, she was really drunk. She- she swerved to avoid hitting another car, and she ran straight into a street lamp, not two minutes from the house.” He chokes on the last part, like it hurts too much to get out. I’m sure that it does. 

“Only one of the five is still alive today. Bianca, she-” his voice breaks. “She got the worst of it, sitting in the front seat.”

Nico clutches his knees to his chest and sobs so hard that I have to stop and wonder if he can even breathe. I soon realize he can’t when he begins to hyperventilate for the second time today. It’s an awful sight; his already small body folded in on itself as if he wants to take up the least amount of space he can, as if he hopes that if he makes himself as small as possible he’ll just disappear. His loud sobs barely have the chance to escape between his quick breaths and even though I know he’s far away and I’m not quite real to him, I scoot closer and start to rub circles on his back, hesitantly. I’m still not used to touching him, and he’s not ready to be grounded just yet, but if he doesn’t control his breathing he might pass out.

I speak as gently yet firmly as possible. “You need to breathe, Nico. Slowly.” I say, after he starts to panic even more. “Slowly and deeply. We did this earlier, remember? You can do this. I want you to breathe in, and when I count to ten, you’re going to breathe out for a few seconds. Okay?”

He nods slowly and takes a deep breath. 

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”

He can’t make it any farther than that the first time, but that’s to be expected. We repeat the exercise until his tears have stopped falling and his breathing has evened out. 

“Okay now?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

I don’t speak. I mean, what can you say? What could anyone say that mattered? The world does terrible things, and words can do nothing to change that. Even though seeing Nico this way has left a deep ache in my chest, I know that I know nothing of his pain. I know that I will never understand. My words or even my embrace can’t change that moment his family got that call, or the moment they opened to door to find an officer whose expression read bad news. That moment when his entire world crashed around him, when the ground opened up beneath his feet. I was not there in that moment when he thought his heart might collapse, or when it hurt so badly he thought he might bleed to death, or maybe that he already had. I was not there, and I never will have been there. There is a gap between us; Nico is still in the past, the place I will never be able to touch. I am here now, but what can I say?

He finally speaks again. “Bianca was always my dad’s favorite. After- after she...He sort of just gave up. I mean, he was never a great dad, but he always tried. He loved us. Or at least I thought he did. When I lost her, it was almost like I lost him too. His drinking problem got worse and he was high all the time. Then one day, he just left, and he didn’t come back. Nobody knows where he is now; doesn’t want to be found,” he shrugs as if he doesn’t care, even though I know he does. 

“I’m so sorry, Nico,” I say, though the words are meaningless. “I just wish there was something I could say. I mean, my dad doesn’t give a shit about me, and I haven’t seen him for years. And my mom- she’s…” I trail off. “But I can’t- I can’t even imagine what that must be like for you.”

He tells me that he’s sorry about my family, and I can tell he’s sincere, even though he has no reason to be. 

I can feel him shivering beneath me, so I stand up. He looks at me like he’s a lost child, and I say, “Wait here. I’ll be back, I promise.” Then I climb back through the window. 

I head across the hall to Percy’s room, knock twice, and open the door once I get approval. Percy’s sitting on his bed watching Annabeth, who’s looking around when I enter. Her perceptive grey eyes soon focus on me. 

“Hey, man, can you do me a favor?” I ask. “It’s for Nico.”

“Wait, did he actually let you inside? He hasn’t let anybody in there.”

I nod. “I need some blankets, and some hot chocolate.”

Percy nods and says, “Okay.” He shows me a hall closet with stacks of blankets and quilts that Sally made and heads downstairs to get the hot chocolate.

Ten minutes later I’m balancing two cups of hot chocolate and a large and fuzzy blanket as I walk across the slanted roof. Nico’s resentment at me for leaving fades and is soon replaced with gratitude. 

“Thank you.” he says sincerely. Sometimes his manners still surprise me. I hand him both mugs, sit down, and spread the blanket out over us. He hands me my mug back and takes a sip of his. 

“This is where you talk to her, isn’t it?” I ask on a hunch, taking a sip of hot chocolate. I can feel it traveling down and warming my insides.

He seems shocked for a moment at my guess, but nods. “Visiting her grave… It never felt right. There was a time, when we were younger, that she lived with my mom in Italy, and I stayed here with my dad. We missed each other like crazy, talked on the phone every night, and- well, it’s kind of stupid,” he trails off.

“You looked up at the sky when you were apart, just to know you were always looking up at the same sky?” I say with a slight smirk. 

He almost chokes on his drink. “How did you know that?”

“Oh come on,” I bump his shoulder lightly. “It’s in all the movies.

He tries to glare at me, but he fails laughing instead. He actually laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound. 

“My sister Thalia and I would do that when we were younger. She lives with some relatives in Europe, and I’m here with my mom.”

“But she’s still alive,” he says almost bitterly, as he raises his mug to his lips. I do the same. 

“She is,” I say. “I’m sorry Bianca’s not,” I add. “And I know nobody will ever replace her. But there are people willing to try. I’m here. I’ll be there for you.” I drain the rest of my hot chocolate as he sets his mug down beside him.

He’s crying again. This time though, I know that he’s not so far away. He’s still stuck somewhere between the past, where he can hold on to his sister, the best friend he ever had, and realizing it’s time to take the first steps towards moving on. So this time he’s crying for the present; he’s crying over his sister, but more about how her being gone has made him feel. He’s crying for himself, and he’s crying because he doesn’t want to be alone anymore. So I bridge the distance between us and once again rub circles on his back. To my surprise, he leans in closer to me and presses his head into my chest. I wrap my arms around him and look up at the sky as I let him cry into me.

This is the same sky I watched with Thalia, and the same sky we watched separately when we were away. It’s the same sky Nico watched with his sister, and the same sky they watched separately when they were away. And it’s the same sky he now watches by himself, curled up here, all alone in the world. Except now I’m under it with him. It strikes me, at this moment, how small we are: even smaller than the stars in the sky. We are not important, not in the scheme of things. Yet neither are the stars, or the moon, or even the sky, but this moment is still real, and somehow that makes it matter. It matters to us, if to nothing else. We are not big. We are not bright. We are not infinite. But we are here, and we are real, and we are alive.

If anyone asks, later on, why I do what I do next, that’s what I’ll tell them. I grab his hand in mine. I lace my fingers through his. 

He doesn’t pull away.


	7. Chapter 7 Jason's Point of View

I stare up at the ceiling as Piper talks and it strikes me how much it looks like popcorn. I’m on my bed, lying on my back, with my phone pressed up to my ear. Piper’s going on and on about something, and I’m not paying the slightest bit of attention. I toss a plush basketball into the air and catch it as it comes back down.   
“Jason? Are you there?”  
“What? Oh yeah- sorry, I-”  
She sighs. You’re not even listening to me, are you?”  
“Of course I am,” I say, though I know she’s too smart and knows me too well to believe that.   
“Let me guess: You’re thinking about Nico.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I laugh.  
She’s right though; I can’t get him out of my head. I didn’t know it was possible to care about someone this much. And I never thought it would be Nico. He’s small, and self-destructive, and his eyes are dark and exhausted and full of hurt. He’s bitter and untrusting and defensive. He’s not the kind of person you imagined yourself with when you were a kid. But he’s beautiful. I can’t explain it; he’s not what you’d call conventionally attractive, especially not when he’s this thin. But you can’t help but want to just keep looking at him, like he’s a piece of art. And he makes me feel real and alive and like something I can’t define, something I’ve never felt before.  
“Hello? Earth to Jason!”   
“I’m here. Hey, question,” I begin, before she can say anything else.  
“Shoot,” she says, exasperated.   
I take a breath. She’s my best friend in the whole world, and I’m not ashamed, but I still feel nervous. “How did you know you were gay?”  
This seems to take her by surprise. “Um. I looked at a girl and I was like ‘nice’,” she laughs, and I do too. “Why are you asking? Does this mean what I think it means?”  
I laugh but ignore the question. “Seriously, though, Pipes. How did you know?”  
There’s a pause. “It’s hard to say. I mean, it’s not like I never thought boys were cute, you know? Looking back, I realize now that I always forced myself to have crushes on them, because everybody else had them. That was the normal thing to do, right? I mean, how was I supposed to know what a real crush felt like? There was never anything there, with boys. No chemistry, or whatever you want to call it. With girls… I don’t know how else to describe it, other than the way they do in the movies. Fireworks, butterflies, all that junk. Not to mention I was always fiercely protective and possessive with female friends. Now, do I get to know why you’re asking?”  
I don’t know if butterflies is the word I would use to describe what it feels like. And it’s not just in my stomach; it’s everywhere. I feel… fuzzy all over, when I’m with him. And warm, like someone’s lit a fire in my chest. When we’re together, and he’s happy, I feel almost giddy. And when he’s not happy, I get this lump in my throat and this ache somewhere deep within me. And I just want to be near him all of the time.   
I take another deep breath. “I think I’m bisexual.”  
“I totally called it!” she screams in my ear.  
“Uh, what?” I mutter, dumbfounded.  
“Well I know you used to like me, obviously, but now there’s Nico, and I could have sworn there was one time you checked out Percy. Reyna and I have been arguing over this for weeks. Of course, she was hoping you’d be pans, like her.”  
I laugh. “Of course you would already know. I can’t hide anything from you.  
“Nope,” she says smugly, and I’m betting that she has a huge smile on her face.  
I smile. I couldn’t have asked for a better best friend.   
“So what’s going on with him, anyways?”  
“With Nico?”  
“Yeah,” she says. “I mean, you kind of befriended him out of nowhere, and now you’re super protective of him. All you do is talk to him or about him. Then there was that whole thing in English yesterday…”  
“Oh. That. I can’t- It wouldn’t be fair of me to tell you anything. He’s just- he’s going through some stuff.”  
For a moment, all I hear is her breathing. Then she says, “Stuff like what I went through?”  
Dammit. I always underestimate how smart she is. I should have learned by now.   
I don’t respond and she says, “Okay, okay, I get it. I surrender. Tell me this though- What’s going on between you and him?”  
That is a good question. I think he likes me, but what if I’m just being full of myself? I know we held hands last night, but he was kind of distressed. To say the least. He might have thought I was just trying to be a good friend and comforting him. He might not even be gay- or bi, or whatever; when I told him about Piper he said he wasn’t going through a “sexuality crisis”.   
I could be reading too deeply into everything.   
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I- last night I went to see him, and we- we held hands. But I don’t know what that means, really-”  
“Are you serious?” She interrupts, a little too loudly. I hold the phone away from my ear. “I’ll tell you what it means- He totally likes you! I mean, I was already pretty sure that he did before, but this just confirms it!”  
“Hey, woah, Pipes, calm down. Even if he does, there’s another problem.”  
“Uh oh,” she says, enthusiasm fading. “What’s that?”  
“I’m not sure- how do I word this- that a- a relationship or anything like that is a good idea right now. For him, I mean. He’s kind of… unstable. I think he might need like, real help. I can’t- I can’t fix him.”  
“I think it’s really good that you’ve already realized that,” she says. “A lot of people don’t.”  
“Well how could I not? With you, and my mom…”  
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But have you thought about, maybe… telling someone about this? Someone who can actually help him.”   
I consider this. “He would hate me.”  
“I don’t think so. He’d be angry, maybe really angry, but he’d forgive you. He’d be grateful in the long run.”  
“Yeah, I just- I don’t know. I don’t think you understand how hard it’s been to get him to trust me, even just a little bit. I don’t want to ruin that.”  
“Jason, if it’s as serious as you make it sound…”  
“I know, I know. Is it selfish of me to want him to trust me?”  
“No. But I don’t know if you understand that he’s sick. If you found out he had cancer, would you keep that a secret from his family?”  
“No, of course not, I- I don’t know. I’ll figure it out, okay?”  
She sighs. “I know. Just- take good care of him, will you? Because I- I remember what it was like to not be able to take care of myself. But don’t forget to make sure you take care of yourself, too.”  
“Okay, Pipes, I-”  
Then my mother knocks at the door. I tell Piper that I have to go and tell my mom to come in. She opens the door but stays standing in the doorway, though she really looks like she should sit down.   
“Did you invite someone here?” Her tone is almost as cold as she looks. She’s shivering, even in warm pajamas and wrapped up in a fleece blanket. She sounds distant, and she’s looking down at her feet in her fuzzy socks, so I know that’s she’s anxious. Strangers- well, people in general- really set her off. And now she’s mad at me, though I have no idea who would come here. Her bad mood will probably last days; malnutrition seems to make people especially irritable.   
“Uh, no,” I say truthfully. “Is someone here? Who is it? Did you let him in?” I ask, considering the possibility that it could be Nico.   
“Her,” she spits out. “Why don’t you go and see for yourself?”  
What girl would visit me? Piper and Reyna both know better, and I can’t think of any one else who would want to.   
“You didn’t let her in?” I ask, irritated but not surprised.   
I jump off my bed and peer out the window to see a girl with bouncing caramel curls turning away from the door- Hazel. I should for her to wait, but the window’s closes, and she can’t hear. I turn back towards the door, squeeze past my mom, ignoring her look of distaste, and run down the stairs. I rush out the door without shoes on.  
“Hazel?” I call after her. “Wait!”  
She’s already halfway back to a silver truck parked on the opposite side of the street. Frank is sitting in the driver’s seat. She turns back around to look at me.  
“Jason!” She smiles as she walks back towards me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. That’s how I know this is about Nico; it’s only when she’s worried about him that she forgets her usual optimism.   
I can’t invite her inside, obviously, though I wish I could. Instead, I motion for her to follow me, and we sit down on a curb.   
“So,” I say with a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
She sighs. “I know you know what’s going on with Nico.”  
I’m taken aback by how direct and to the point she is. “I- Uh-”  
She cuts me off. “I know you know.   
“I- Yeah,” I say, at a loss. “But, I mean, he’s trusting me not to say anything.” I feel guilty for saying that. I’m still thinking of my conversation with Piper, and wondering if I should tell her. What if he ends up seriously hurting himself? Or if he ends up starving himself to death?” But he already has the hardest time trusting people. He doesn’t even trust me fully yet; I know there’s more to his story than what he’s told me. I don’t want to ruin what little trust he does have for e by spilling his secrets, even just to Hazel.  
“Jason, I’m his sister. He can trust me.”  
“He does trust you. But just- he’s not ready to talk about it. You know how he is. I’m sue he’ll tell you when he is ready.” There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The words I’m giving her are empty.   
“What if he’s never ready? Look, Jason, I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t serious. You’ve seen him, he looks like he hasn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks.”  
“He’s not anorexic,” I tell her, decided I should at least clear that up. “Or bulimic or anything like that. He’s just- he’s lost his appetite. Eating makes him feel sick.” Part of me hopes that’ll help give it away; loss of appetite is one of the most common symptoms of depression.   
“Why? Do you think he’s sick? Like really sick with something?” Her eyes bore into me, filled with worry, searching for answers. In a way, they remind me of Nico’s.   
“No,” I say, after consideration. Mental illness is still illness. But I don’t think that’s what she’s talking about. “It’s nothing like that. Just- he need to slowly start eating more. Build up his appetite again. Expecting him to eat Chinese food and hamburgers- that’s not going to work.”  
She nods, playing with a strand of her hair. “But why? He can’t- I know that when I lost my mom, I barely ate for weeks. But Bianca has been gone for over a year. He can’t still be grieving like that, can he? I mean missing her and being sad is one thing, but he should be getting better by now, shouldn’t he?”  
I shrug. “Everybody deals with loss differently.”  
People like Nico, and my mom, who already had underlying issues- loss can trigger something beyond the grief most people feel.   
I look her in the eye. “He’s going to be fine. I promise. Just make sure that he knows you’re there for him. He’ll tell you what’s going on, probably when he figures out what’s going on.”  
Reluctantly, she nods. Frank is staring at us through his truck’s windshield, and Hazel holds up a finger as if to say, “I’ll be there in a minute.”Then she turns back to me.  
“He’s sensitive, you know. He’s not like you.”  
Why does everyone seem to think I’m insensitive? Just because I play sports?  
“Be careful with him,” she says, resigned. The sinking feeling in my stomach worsens. She’s deciding to trust me with him, but I’m still not even sure I’m making the right choice. I’ve never been any help to my mom, besides with like, first-aid stuff. What makes me think I can help him?


	8. Chapter 8 Nico's Point of View

Percy knocks on the door. “Can I talk to you?”

Well this can’t be good. But I sit up in my bed and tell him to come in over the sound of thunder booming in the distance. 

He does. His green eyes find mine; they look unusually serious.

He approaches the bed. “Can I sit?”

I nod, a lump rising in my throat. “What’s up? I ask, with unconvincing nonchalance. 

He sits down at the end of the bed and folds his legs up to his chest. He opens his mouth and then closes it again, like he’s still looking for the right words. “I think I know what’s going on. With you, I mean.”

A chill that has nothing to do with the cold spreads throughout my bones. “What- What are you talking about?” 

Best to feign innocence. 

“We’ve all been trying to figure you out for a while. You know that.”

“Yes. I also know that you’re all wasting your time. I’m fine.”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Maybe. But I found something, last night, in the bathroom. I was hoping you could explain to me what is.”

I shrug. “Okay,” I say, as a wave of nausea crashes over me, leaving me feeling hot and panicked. 

He reaches his hand into his pocket and pulls it out a minute later, his fist closed. He holds it out to me, his forearm facing up. When he opens it, a flash of silver catches my eye.

My stomach drops.

Hold it together, Nico.

“It’s a razor,” I say in a voice that sounds too strong and clear to be my own.

But then his eyes- the eyes I’ve known for so long- search me. He won’t find answers that I don’t want him to find. He never does, god, he’s so oblivious. But my stomach is in knots and my heart is hammering and it hurts, it really hurts, and I want him to know. I want him to know how much it hurts and I want him to know how much of it is his fault. I can’t say anything, though. After all of these years I still can’t help but being hopelessly tongue-tied around him. 

So I start to cry.

Not just because I’m sad. Not anymore. I’m overwhelmed. I’m hurt and I’m afraid and I’m angry, I’m so fucking angry, and it’s impossible to feel this goddamn much. Isn’t it? Someone can’t hurt this much and come out alive, can they? I need it to stop. The only way I can ever get it to stop is by digging that blade into my skin and bleeding it all out. But now Percy knows, and he’s going to tell, and they’re going to make me stop. They won’t understand that all I ever wanted was the pain to stop. 

Someone places a hand on my shoulder. 

“Hey, Nico,”

I hit it away. Or I try to, at least; through my tear-blurred vision, I end up hitting Percy right in the nose.

“Oh, god, Percy-”

He stands up and backs up. He looks angry, but when he speaks, his voice is calm. “All anyone wants to do is help you, you know. But you’re still so set on pushing everyone away. What are you going to do if we all decide we’re done trying?”

“Don’t you get it, Percy? That’s what I want! I don’t need help. From anyone. But especially not you.”

He doesn’t answer for a moment. Then he says, “If this is about Bianca…”

“What else would this be about?” I shout. 

He doesn’t answer, so I speak again, my voice calmer this time. Calmer, but smaller. Broken. “You promised you would protect her.”

“I know.” His voice is smaller now, too. Smaller than I’ve ever heard it sound, and it makes me feel bad, for a moment. Percy is not supposed to sound that way. “It was just a party. A party. Fun. Nothing bad was supposed to happen. Nobody was supposed to… to…” He trails off. “I spent the longest time blaming myself. Almost as long as you.” In spite of himself, he chuckles. “But I was asleep when it happened. Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have been drinking. Neither should she have been. Maybe I should have followed her around the whole time like a lost puppy. But these are all just maybes. Maybe there was more we all could have done. I wasn’t the only one at that party, you know.”

His eyes are intense. His jawline is set. His breath is ragged, like waves crashing against rocks and then receding back into the sea. Standing there like that, he reminds me of another time.

Suddenly, I’m in a memory. I’m small, even smaller than I am now. I’m sitting on a swing, kicking my legs back and forth. The sky grows closer as I get higher and shrinks again as I fall back, my eyes closed, feeling like I’m on top of the world.

But then a rough pair of hands pushes against my back and I’m falling, falling, falling, until I hit the ground. I hear a bone crack in my arm and laughter. Laughter all around me, closing in on me. The wood chips are digging into my skin so I sit up. A drop of blood trickles onto my lip and then down my chin and onto my lap. I look at my arm- it’s bent at an awkward angle and it hurts worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m surrounded by pointing fingers and cruel, jeering faces. I begin to cry.

The kids only laugh harder. Then they start shouting things. Stupid things, but they hurt. I forget all about the pain in my arm as they confirm all of the horrible things I’ve ever thought about myself.

Crybaby.

Freak.

Faggot.

Loser.

I am ten years old and I am sobbing and I am alone. Bianca is nowhere to be seen and I am all alone in a world full of people out to get me. I try to make myself look smaller. I try to disappear, but I can’t. In this moment, existence is too real and too heavy a burden.

Until he comes. His eyes are sea-green and his hair is as black as a raven. He’s bigger than me, though not too much older. He looks like a real hero, like my favorite game, Mythomagic, brought to life. The minute his eyes lock with mine, I trust him.

I watch from the ground as he pushes his way past the circle of kids surrounding me.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks. His language shocks me, but I’m more in awe of the fact that he shows no fear. He somehow silences the crowd without saying or doing anything else. Then he kneels down and offers me my hand.

“Are you okay?”

I nod. I nod because I want to be brave like him. I dry my tears. 

He helps me up and the crowd parts as we walk by. I try to hold my head high, like his. He walks me to the office, and when the principal comes to question us, he does the talking for me. He waits with me until my dad comes to pick me up, even after Bianco finds out what happens and shows up. He lets me cry when I can’t be as strong as he is. 

And now here I am, six years later, crying just like I did that day. I look up at Percy, and I really see him for the first time. He’s not the hero I thought he was when I desperately needed one. But he’s not a monster, either; he’s not a killer. He’s a person, and he wants to help me. And I need to tell him the truth.

He’s staring down at me, confused.

“Sit down, I tell him.”

“What?” 

“You heard me.”

He continues to look around, completely bewildered, before finally doing what I say. He sits farther from me, this time, like he’s afraid I might hit him again.

“I’m sorry for, you know,” I say.

His expression softens at the half-finished apology. “It’s- It’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on.”

I take a big breath in . “I loved you, you know.” I spit it out as quickly as I can, before I can really think about it, and before I can talk myself out of it. 

“Uh- What?”

“I was- I loved you.”

“Wait. You mean-”

“Yes, Percy. I hated myself for it. I hated you for it. And Annabeth. I mean, I see now that you’re not my type. But I loved you, and you loved Annabeth, and it hurt. And then I lost Bianca, and it was your fault. I thought it was your fault. I think now that I just wanted a reason to blame you. I mean, I couldn’t blame you for not loving me. Just look at me.” I laugh bitterly.

“But wait. You mean that you- you’re-”

I can’t help but laugh again, in spite of everything. “I’m gay, Percy.”

His mouth drops a little and his eyes search my face, like he’s looking for a sign that I’m kidding.

I want to meet his eye, but I can’t There’s still shame burning a hole in my chest. And I still can’t believe I actually said any of that. 

Oh god, what was I thinking? I must be crazy.

“Oh,” he says finally, completely taken aback. “Well that’s uh- I don’t- not your type?”

I could be imagining it, but I think he actually looks offended. I shake my head. 

A small, sly smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “So who is your type then? Maybe you’re more into… blondes?”

I narrow my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, here,-”

“You’ve been hanging around with Jason a lot lately.”

“We had a project together.” 

“You let him into your room Friday night. Yo refused to even talk to anyone else…”

“What’s your point?”

He shrugs. “Oh, nothing.”

I almost whack him with a pillow, but then I remember that I’ve already hit him once today and feel bad. Instead, the conversation fades into a drawn out silence, in which we can only hear the sound of my sniffles, the rise and fall of each other’s breaths, and the thunder clapping every few minutes.

What he says to break the silence startles me and gets my heart racing again. “Let me see them.”

“What?”

“Your arms. I want to see.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, that wasn’t- that’s not mine.”

“Nico. It was in your cabinet, under your mouthwash.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s mine. I’ve never seen it in my life.” I wish I had the time to think of a better lie.

“Right,” he says, nodding. “That’s why you burst into tears at the sight of it.”

“I’ve- It’s been a long day.”

“You haven’t left your bed all weekend. Can we just be real here? Please?”

I sigh and close my eyes. Real. I don’t know how to be real. I told Hazel I’m gay. I told Jason about Bianca. I told Percy I’m gay and that I was in love with him. I’ve had enough real these last few weeks to last a lifetime. But I’ve also cried enough for a lifetime just in these past few days, and I’m exhausted. My defenses are low, lower than I ever wanted them to be. I don’t know how I let this happen. But when I open my eyes, I see so much care and worry in Percy’s face, and I want to believe it. I really want to believe it.

I don’t say anything as I begin to roll up my sleeves. I don’t look at Percy. I don’t look at my arms. I’ve already memorized every cut, every scar, every goddamn one. Their shapes, positions, colors. The story behind every one. But Percy’s seeing it for the first time, and he gasps.

He gasps at the sight of me, the real me, even though that’s who he asked to see.

But when he gathers his thoughts the tone he speaks in isn’t what I expected. It’s gentle, and kind, and concerned. 

“Oh my god, Nico… I can’t- I can’t believe I didn’t know. I didn’t know you were in so much pain.

I quickly roll my sleeves back down; leaving my arms exposed makes me uncomfortable. Then I shrug. 

He looks like he wants to reach out to me, to hug me, maybe, but he doesn’t, and I’m grateful for it. 

“I’m going to have to tell my mom, you know.”

My head snaps quickly in his direction as a desperate “no” escapes my lips. 

There’s pity written all over his face. My stomach turns; I don’t want pity. This is why I didn’t want anyone to know. “Nico, this is serious. My mom can help, okay? I can’t just let you keep doing this. You know that.”

“No,” I repeat, just as frantically as before. “Please- please don’t. Just, wait. Please. I’ll- I’ll tell her. And I’ll tell Hazel. She should- I think she should hear it from me. Just give me a little bit of time.”

He’s hesitant, but slowly, he nods. 

“Besides, it’s their anniversary tomorrow. I don’t want to ruin it with something like this.”

“‘Something like this’? Nico, I don’t think they’d mind. You’re really important to her. To Paul, too. To the whole family. You shouldn’t have ever kept something like this from us to begin with.”

What can I say to that? How can I explain to him what it feels like to be so ashamed of who and what you are? Or what it feels like to think everything inside of you is worthless? How could he expect me to ask for help when the biggest problem is that I don’t think I deserve it?

All I do is nod. 

Then, it’s almost like he can read my mind. “You’re not beyond helping, you know. Even if you were, we’d still try. Everyone needs help sometimes, and that’s okay. You’re not undeserving of it.”

I blink away hot tears rather than letting them fall.

“I was going to go out to the snow with Annabeth’s family tomorrow, but-”

“No, go,” I say.

“No, I don’t want to leave you here alone. Hazel’s going to that concert with Frank, remember?”

“Relax, Percy, I don’t need a babysitter. Besides, I think I might have Jason over.”

That’s a lie. But I could do with a day all to myself and besides, I don’t want to ruin his plans. 

He breaks out into a grin. “Oh, good!”

I nod.

“So… Jason knows about all of this, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. 

He smiles again. “And he’s still sticking around.”

He winks at me before taking his leave.


	9. Chapter 9 Nico's Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! So this is another pretty short and pretty angsty chapter. I thought I should put a trigger warning for a self-harm scene and mention of suicidal thoughts. And I promise things will get happier soon! Thank you for reading and for the lovely reviews :)

I don’t know why I always end up here. By here, I mean on my floor, my back against my bedroom door, a blade in my hand. A disposable razor lies in bits next to me, discarded after I got what I wanted from it. Percy took my good blade, and this one is flimsy and will probably only work once or twice, but it’ll do for now. 

I just feel so overwhelmed and I don’t know what else to do. 

Friday night was good. Well, not good. The day as a whole sucked. But the telling Jason about Bianca thing went okay. Better, I think, than I ever could have hoped. I told Jason about my sister, and I cried, and I showed him that I wasn’t okay, and he didn’t leave. He didn’t even look like he wished he could. He held me as I cried and when I stopped he held my hand. Then he carried me to bed like my dad would when Bianca and I were younger, and we would stay up reading in her room long after our bedtimes. 

And then yesterday, Percy found out. Everything. He knows I cut myself, he knows I loved him, and he knows I’m gay. How could I have been so stupid, leaving a blade where he could find it? How could I have told him all of those things? He was so kind, though, and so caring. I couldn’t help it. At the time I was so sure it was the right thing to do. 

But I woke up feeling sick to my stomach. Because I’m ashamed. Ashamed that I let them in, even more ashamed that I needed to. Ashamed that I am so broken, so dependent, that after all this time of telling myself I didn’t need anyone, I do. I can’t do this on my own. But what other choice do I have? There’s this deep ache in my chest, this tired in my bones. There’s something dark inside of me. It overpowers any thoughts about how Jason didn’t run away, how he held me, about how he looked under the moonlight…

Because what does it matter? I’m not who he thinks I am. He can’t understand. He can’t love me. Why should I even let him try?

And Percy. Maybe he feels bad for me, but he doesn’t really care. He’s just trying to be the good guy, like he always is. 

I am alone. And god, I’m tired. I’m so tired. I can’t do this. All of the fight has slowly drained out of me, and I don’t think there’s any left. And what was the point of fighting for so long anyways? Nobody really cared. Maybe Jason does now, or he thinks he does, at least. But he’ll get over it. I’m not worth crying over. So I give up. This is it. And the second I think it, I know it’s true. I’m done. 

I roll my sleeves up, revealing hundreds of angry red and white lines, some of them almost faded completely, some of them still in the process of healing. There’s a moment, there’s always a moment, where the sight of them makes me ashamed of myself and what I’ve become. How could I let this happen? But the urge to surrender myself completely, to lose myself, overwhelms and dominates my thoughts. 

And so I do. I surrender. My aching chest stops trying so hard to fight. The clouds clear from my head. I feel the sting of the blade kissing my skin and watch with satisfaction as the blood pools up on my arm. It hurts, so I do it again, and this time, there’s more relief than pain. The third time, there’s practically no pain at all, just a sense of calm beginning to travel throughout my body. By the fourth time, I feel okay. I am okay. But I keep going until I feel alive, and euphoric, but even then, I don’t stop. I cut and cut and cut until the calm has overtaken my body, and I can’t continue and my eyes droop. Red drips down and stains the floor and sleep is beckoning, and god I wish I could sleep, and I’ve gone too far.

A panic arises inside of me that I didn’t expect. I’m bleeding out and I can’t see straight but there’s a spark inside of me. I’m scared. I don’t want it to end like this, I never wanted it to end like this. All I wanted was a home. Some place where I was safe. Somebody who actually knew me, who understood me, who loved me. I wanted it so badly that it hurt. No, I still want it, it still hurts. I’m still alive. But I’m still afraid. And the longing is killing me. My yearning for safety and love turned to bitterness, because I was alone, but in this state between wakefulness and sleep, I know that I was the one who pushed everyone away. 

But it doesn’t have to be this way, does it? 

Jason. He can help me. I pull out my phone and go to his contact and hold my finger over the call button. 

What else could I do? I press the button. 

Jason picks up. “Nico?” he says. 

I try to focus, but it’s hard. Everything feels fuzzy. Jason says my name again. 

“Jason,” I say. 

“Is everything okay?” He sounds worried.

“I- I need help,” I choke out. And then I have to choke back a sob. I hate those words. I hate needing anything, and I hate needing help most of all. Especially help with something like this. But I don’t see another option.

It’s just lucky I’m home alone; Percy’s out with Annabeth’s family, Hazel’s with Frank, and it’s Paul and Sally’s anniversary, so they decided they’d spend the day in San Francisco. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you come over?”

He doesn’t even ask any questions. He tells me that he’ll be right here and then hangs up. I think he knows already.

I try to stand up, but a wave of dizziness goes straight to my head, and I stumble. I start to lower myself back down, but then I think better of it. I can’t lean against the door if I want Jason to be able to get in when he gets here. Miraculously, I manage to get myself over to my bed. I look around for something to try and stop the bleeding, and see no other option but the shirt I’m wearing. I struggle to remove it, but it gets stuck around my ears. I groan in frustration. My bleeding arm is still in it’s sleeve, and my other one is stuck halfway in. I can’t get it off without the pain in my left arm becoming unbearable.

I’m like that when Jason walks in not even ten minutes later. He doesn't even look surprised to find me that way, and that makes me feel worse. How did I get this way? And If I wasn’t already half unconscious, I’m sure I would have turned red from embarrassment. I must look like an idiot. I try to tell him not to laugh, but it comes out as a jumbled, mumbled mess. 

He doesn’t laugh, but he does try out an interesting combination of swear words. 

He comes over to me and helps me out of my shirt. Though my eyes are half-closed, I can see his eyes catch on the scars on my chest. But he moves on quickly and pushes me down so that I’m laying with my head on my pillow. Then he examines my arm.

“Shit, Nico,” he says. “I think these might need stitches.”

I try to sit up in protest, but he pushes me back down. “Can’t- tell-”

“Calm down, man. We don’t have to tell your parents. I know how to- I can do it myself. We just- We’ll have to go to my house.”


	10. Chapter 10 Jason's Point of View

I’m skateboarding around the park with Piper when I get the call.   
“Jason,” he says. I can tell something’s wrong almost immediately.  
“Is everything okay?” I ask, unable to keep fear from creeping into my voice.   
“I- I need help,” he manages to choke out between sobs. My stomach sinks; it must be bad if he’s willing to admit that. Piper’s staring at me questioningly, and I motion for her to hold on.  
“What’s wrong?” I ask him. I’m scared to find out the answer.   
“Can you come over?” His words slur together, like he’s half asleep, but it’s barely even noon. I tell him that I’m on my way and then hang up.   
“What’s going on?” Piper asks.  
I don’t see I have an option but to tell her the truth. “Something’s wrong with Nico. I’m going to head over there now.” My voice sounds frantic, and not at all like my own.  
She nods. “I’ll come too.”   
I shake my head. “Look, Piper, he sounds pretty freaked out. I don’t want to make it worse.”  
She throws her board down on the ground and puts one foot on it like she’s getting ready to go. “I’ll wait outside, then. I just want to make sure he’s okay. Besides, you never know, you might need my help.”   
I meet her fierce eyes and see that she’s not going to back down, and because I don’t want to waste anymore time, I nod. “Okay. Let’s go, then.”  
I throw my board down, step on it, and speed off. She does the same, following loosely behind me.   
His house is less than five minutes from the park, but we still race there as fast as we can. The wind ruffles my hair and my clothes and, under different circumstances, it might feel good. But my heart is beating too quickly, and I’m shaking, and there are too many “what ifs” running through my mind.   
I get distracted and almost run into a car parked along the sidewalk. I swerve at the last minute, but I’m going too quickly and the force pulls me forward. I break the fall with my elbows, and then roll a few feet away into the middle of the street.   
Piper catches up to me and slows to a stop, much more gracefully than I did. She offers a hand to help me up.  
I take it, nodding. Once I’m up, I assess the damage: my elbows are scraped up and bleeding, and my jeans are ripped at the knee, but I’m okay.  
“Let’s keep going.”  
Piper doesn’t question me.   
We continue, and don’t stop again until we get there.   
There’s no car in the driveway, and nobody answers when I knock; Nico must be here alone.   
I hope he’s still okay.   
The door opens when I try it.   
I turn back to Piper, who’s standing in the driveway looking around. She has her arms crossed over her stomach, the way she always does when she’s nervous or afraid or upset. I wish I could comfort her, but I need to get to Nico.  
“Just wait here for a minute, okay?”  
She nods before going to sit down on the curb.   
I turn to the door again, take a deep breath in, and enter. The house is, as I expected, seemingly empty. The curtains are drawn to keep the sunlight out, but none of the lights are on. Well, not down here, anyways.  
I feel kind of creeped out, so I call Nico’s name.  
No response.   
I head up the stairs, taking three at a time.   
His door is closed, but a dim light is shining between the cracks. I hesitate, even after rushing to get here so quickly. I’m scared of what I might find, though I think I already know.   
Deep breaths, Jason.   
I open the door.   
I feel my heart shatter at the sight of him.  
He’s a crumpled form on a blood-stained bed. His shirt is halfway off, but stuck around his head. One arm is still in his sleeve, but the other is only halfway in. One of them is bleeding. A lot.  
He mumbles something nearly unintelligible. I realize that I think he’s trying to tell me not to laugh.  
And why would I? What happened to make him so afraid of getting kicked while he’s down? He’s vulnerable, but the last thing I want to do is laugh at him for that. There are a lot of things I want to do right now. Cry. Scream. Hold him. But not laugh. Never that.   
“Fucking- son of a bitch. Fucking fuck. Fuck,” I hear myself say without really thinking about it.  
I go to help him out of his shirt. I sit him up and pull it over his head and- shit.  
His chest is covered in scars. Just like the ones on his arms, but there’s more. They’re deeper. Longer.  
Maybe this is worse than I thought. Maybe I should have told someone as soon as I found out.  
I decide not to dwell on it, for now. Right now, Nico needs help, and I’m the one here to give it to him. I gently grab his arm to examine it, and-  
It’s bad.   
It’s really bad.  
Deep breath.  
“Shit, Nico. I think these might need stitches.”  
His half-closed and nearly lifeless eyes flutter open and a cry of protest rises in his throat. “Can’t- tell-“  
I push him down. I know what he’s going to say; he doesn’t want his family to find out. I tell him that they don’t have to. I don’t tell him that I think they might need to.   
For now, I can deal with this.   
“I know how to- I can do it myself,” I begin, growing less confident with every word. “We just- We’ll have to go to my house.   
I haven’t had anyone over since even before my dad left. Other kids seemed to know something was wrong with my mom even before I did. And she almost always said no when I asked, anyways. This time, though, she doesn’t have a choice. I’m hoping she’ll be sympathetic, given she knows what he’s going through; she’s the reason I even know how to stitch up wounds in the first place.  
The first time I found my mom in need of stitches, I was thirteen. My dad was gone, and I ws alone and scared with no idea what to do. I thought I had no choice but to take her to the hospital, but she refused. Back then, I couldn’t have carried her anywhere, and I had no one to drive us. We didn’t have a phone at that time, either. I had no options; I was helpless.  
Like I had been for the last three years. This was just the worst I had seen her, but it wasn’t anything new to me. I was still scared shitless, though, and I had all of this… stuff building up inside of me. That was the moment I realized I could either break down, like I always did, or I could be strong, because my mother needed me to be.  
I decided to be strong.  
We had this super old, bulky computer at the time that I mostly used for school. The internet ws slow, but it worked. I looked up what to do for her, and then ran to the store around the corner. I had to steal money from our safe, but I got what she needed.   
When I stitched her up, I didn’t cry. That was the first night in a long time that I didn’t. But all the blood made me sick, and I threw up afterwards.   
Since, then, I’ve had a lot of practice. Now, I can do it without even thinking about it.  
I just never thought I’d have to do it for Nico.  
I tell him to wait where he is and run out the door, down the stairs, and outside to Piper.   
“Can you call Reyna? See if she’ll pick us up.”  
She nods, already pulling out her phone before I finish speaking.  
“Did he- what did he do?”  
“He just- he cut. Deeply.”  
Her eyes widen. All she does is nod. Then Reyna picks up, and she turns away.  
I rush back inside; being away from Nico for even that small amount of time made me nervous. I rummage through all of his upstairs cabinets before finding one with towels. Of course, they’re all white. I don’t really have it in me to care, though.   
I take one to Nico, wrap his arm in it, and instruct him to apply pressure on it. The bleeding is already slowing, which is good. If it didn’t, I’d have no choice but to take him to the emergency room.   
He looks like he can’t hold his eyes open any longer though, so I grab his arm and apply pressure on it for him.  
His eyes flutter shut.  
If I’m being honest, I don’t know that much about first- aid, but letting him fall asleep sounds like a bad idea.   
‘Nico,” I say gently. “I need you to stay away for me. Can you do that?”  
He groans, but his eyes open again.  
Then he does something that surprises me.   
He holds out his hand and reaches for mine. I meet him in the middle.  
“Reyna’s on her way,” I tell him. He looks like he wants to protest, but knows he’s not in the position to. I continue. “She’s going to drive us to my house. I can fix you up there, okay? You’re going to be just fine.”  
He looks at me like he’s lost, or he doesn’t quite know where he is. Then he says, “I’m scared.”  
He starts to cry again, and I let him.   
“It’s all going to be okay. Don’t be scared. I’m here.”  
That only makes him cry harder, and I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know why he did this to himself in the first place, and now doesn’t really seem like the time to ask.  
We stay like that in silence, for a while, until I hear Reyna’s car pull up in the driveway. Her door opens and then slams shut again.  
“I’m going to carry you down, okay?” He doesn’t really have much of a choice, but it seems better to ask. Fortunately, he nods. I’ve gotten pretty used to carrying him these last few days.  
With difficulty, I manage to scoop him up in my arms without damaging his already injured arm. Then I carry him out of his room, down the hallway, down the stairs, and out the front door.   
Piper gasps when she sees him. “Oh my god…”  
Reyna’s eyes harden at the sight of him, and her face grows determined. Only those who know her well would be able to see the fear lingering underneath her gaze. She’s like me in that; she hardens when things get difficult. We’re not like Piper and Nico, who are gentle, and soft, and easily swayed by the whisperings of the wind.   
Reyna turns back towards her car and opens the back door. She moves her bag off the seat and gestures for me to put him down inside. I do, as carefully as possible. When I stand up again I hit my head against the roof.  
“Are you okay?” Reyna asks, but I brush her off. I ignore the throbbing in my head and walk around the car to the other back door. I climb into the middle seat and let Nico rest against me. He reaches for my hand again, and I take it between both of mine. It’s freezing.   
He cries the whole way there. So does Piper.   
I haven’t seen her cry, not like this, for years. Reyna holds her hand over the center console. She makes eye contact with me through the rearview mirror, and I know she understands.  
My heart feels like broken glass in my chest. There is so much pain in the world, and it’s so hard to see the people you care about the most responsible for feeling a part of it. But when you’re the one who has to take care of them, and hold them when they cry, and stitch up their self-inflicted wounds, it’s like you can feel all of the world’s pain at once. All of the world’s pain feels like mine to bear. But that’s not true; I only know a tiny fraction of the hurt and the heartbreak. Knowing that only makes it all worse.   
But I can’t break down now. I have to be the strong one.  
We pull up in front of my house and every body turns to look at me. Reyna and Piper know about my mom, and I can sense their apprehension. They’ve only heard stories.  
I get out first and move to get Nico, but Reyna stops me.  
“We’ll get him,” she says. “You go deal with your mother.”  
Hesitantly, I nod. My mom deserves at least a little bit of forewarning, and I know she’s not going to be happy with me. I just hope that today is one of her good days.  
Fortunately, it seems to be. She’s in the kitchen when I enter, standing over a pan full of meat. She’s making tacos. She does this sometimes; she cooks these really nice meals for me, with no intention of eating anything herself. Other times our fridge is completely empty, and there’s nothing in the pantry, and the only meal I get all day is the free lunch from school. But today she must be okay. She’s actually dressed for the first time in what seems like a long time, though she’s wearing clothes too warm for today’s weather. She even smiles at me when she sees me.  
“Jason,” she says. “Just in time. I’m making lunch, and it should be ready soon. Why don’t you go clean up-“  
Then she gets a good look at me, and knows something is wrong. She’s never been the best mother, but she can still read me the way only a mother could. “What’s wrong?”   
Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them back. I just have to be strong for a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer.  
“It’s my friend,” I say, forcing myself to stand tall. “My friend, Nico. He’s hurt. He’s- he’s outside.”  
She immediately stiffens. Then she turns around, so that her back is facing me. “You couldn’t take him to the hospital? Where are his parents?” Her tone is cold, in sharp contrast to her good mood two minutes ago.   
“I couldn’t, “I say, trying to figure out the words to say. “He’s- he’s a lot like you, mom. He refuses to let me take him. And his family’s all out of town.”  
There’s a knock on the door, but I don’t move towards it, even though everything inside of me is screaming to hurt up. My mom turns around and looks me over. After careful consideration, she says, “Well, let him in.” Her voice is shaking.   
I nod at her, in too much of a hurry to be shocked. I rush to the door. I open it to find Reyna and Piper both supporting Nico, who’s standing between them, with his arms thrown over their shoulders.   
“This way,” I tell them, leading them towards my room. I see all three of them glance at my mom on the way in, but Reyna and Piper try their hardest not to stare. Nico, on the other hand, is too out of it to hide his shock.  
I know my mom’s appearance is shocking. It still surprises me sometimes, and I live with her. She’s nearly as tall as I am, but only 90 pounds; she looks emaciated. Her blonde hair is thin and scraggly, and she has several bald spots, not only because it falls out, but because she pulls it out. If you look closely, you can see that she doesn’t have any eyelashes, either. She’s wearing long sleeves and pants, so the only scars you can see are three purple ones on her right cheek. It’s obvious what they are, though. She did those only earlier this year.   
Nico looks up at me questioningly. I shrug. I’ll tell him later.  
I help Piper and Reyna lower him onto my bed. They both back up immediately, but I don’t. I stare at this boy, so broken and small, and dread the task ahead of me. I can feel my heart pounding in my hands, and my throat, and everywhere. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t even want to look at him any longer.  
I don’t have a choice. I’m the only one who can do this.  
I head towards the bathroom to wash my hands. To my surprise, on my way out, I run into my mom. In her hands, she holds our makeshift first-aid kid. She offers it to me.  
“Uh, thanks,” I say, taking it, unsure of what to do. “Thank you. Um, hey, could you go get a washrag and wet it with warm water? And get some soap.”  
She nods, looking grateful for something to do.   
Once I’m back in my room, I set the kit down on my desk. I pull out a needle, and then a lighter from my drawer. I hold the fire to the needle to disinfect it. After, I pour hydrogen peroxide into a small dish and drop the needle inside.  
My mom comes back and hands me an old, wet, red washrag, a dry one, and a bar of soap. “Thank you.”   
She says “you’re welcome,” with her eyes but not out loud, and then goes to stand in the corner of the room, away from Piper and Reyna, and crosses her arms.   
I drag the chair from my desk to the bed.  
“Okay?” I ask Nico as I sit down. He nods. Even after all of this he’s still lying.   
“I’m going to wash your arm off first, okay?  
“Okay,” he croaks.  
I bring the washrag to his skin and he winces. Barely anything comes off with just the water; I have to scrub with the soap to get off all of the dry, cracked blood, despite the look of pain that crosses over his face. I clean it off and then dry it off with the other rag.  
Now onto the hard part.  
I grab the needle and some thread and sit back down.  
As I thread the needle, I ask, “Have you had stitches before?”  
He shakes his head. Great. First time getting stitches and it’s from an amateur.  
“I don’t have anything to numb your arm with, so it’s going to hurt. We can still take you to the hospital, if you want. You can still change your mind.”  
“No,” he says. “Just get it over with,” he pleads.  
I nod. “Okay. Okay.”   
Deep breath.  
He gasps when the needle goes in, and his eyes fill with tears all over again.  
I stop. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”  
“Keep going,” he says through gritted teeth.  
I don’t know what else to do, so I do. Every time the needle goes through, he whimpers. By the third time, tears stream continuously down his face, and he looks so helpless, that I can’t help but feeling it’s my fault. I’m hurting him. This guilt takes over me, and it’s almost unbearable. I can almost stop my hands from shaking, and there are several times that I have to blink back tears from blurring my vision. It hurts to see him like this. I go slowly, though, for fear I’ll mess up. When I finally tie off the last not, relief floods through my body.   
I’m done. It’s okay, he’s okay.  
But something inside me still feels broken.   
Piper comes up and puts her hand on my shoulder, but I brush it off, standing up.  
“I’m just- I’m gonna go get some air.”  
I walk out of my room and out the front door.  
Then I run.


	11. Chapter 11 Jason's Point of View

My footsteps hurt as they pound against the pavement; dirty, old converse aren’t the best shoes to run in. It’s almost better that it hurts, though, because it takes my attention away from the horrible thoughts swarming around my head. I run fast and far, with no regard to where I’m going. I focus only on my heavy breaths, my lungs and the way they feel like they might burst, and the pain that shoots up my shins every time I take another step.  
I run and run until I can’t go any farther. When I stop, I find myself in an old alleyway behind a convenience store. I slide down against the brick wall, breathing hard.  
What am I doing here? What am I doing? I shouldn’t have left Nico alone with people he’s not comfortable with, especially not in the state he’s in. I should be there for him. He’s the one who needs me. But it’s gotten to be too much. I’m always there to let him cry on me, to remind him to breath. I’m there to clean him up when he hurts himself. When I’m not with him, I’m worrying about him. If I’m not too busy worrying about my mother, that is. I never even sleep anymore, because what if something bad happens? What if he needs me and I’m not there? What if he’s counting on me and there’s nothing I can do?  
I feel as though my entire body is made up of worry. Worry and fear. And it makes me angry. I’m angry that Nico won’t let anybody but me help him. I’m just a kid. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m angry that he’s so careless with his own life. Doesn’t he know how many people do care about him? All of that doesn’t mean anything, though, if he’s not willing to help himself. There’s only so much I can do, even though I want to do everything for him. I want to give him the world, but all I have is me. I’m angry that that doesn’t seem to be enough.  
I stand up, shaking, and turn around. I rest my forehead against the wall.   
Then I bring my first up and slam it against the bricks. I punch them again, and again, and again, even after my knuckles start to bleed. Anger continues to build up inside of me, but each time I bring my fist to the wall, I feel even the slightest bit of relief. I wonder if this is what it feels like for Nico, when he brings that blade to his skin. I’m about to slam the wall again when someone shouts my name.   
I turn and see Reyna walking towards me. Her car is parked along the sidewalk.  
“What are you doing here?” I ask, hiding my knuckle behind my back.  
“By all means,” she begins, “carry on. You’re angry. Get it all out.”  
I look at her, confused. She looks serious. I don’t do what she says though. Instead, I shrink back down against the wall. She sits down next to me.  
“You know you’re not alone in this, right?” Piper and I are here to help you help him.”  
Something about the way her eyes bore into me gets to me, and I finally lose it. I break down. I cry, for the first time in years. She puts her arm around my shoulder and lets me.   
“I’ve been taking care of people my whole life,” I begin. “I was ten when my dad left me alone with an anorexic and suicidal mother. Ten years old.”  
“You didn’t deserve that. Your dad is a piece of shit, isn’t that what you called him when you told us about him?”  
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” I say, sniffling. I wipe my eyes. “I was always so sensitive as a kid. When he left, I couldn’t be anymore. I h ad to- to put on this shell, to harden myself, because what other choice did I have? My mom cried enough for the both of us.”  
She rubs circles on my back but doesn’t say anything. She wants me to keep going. Surprisingly, I realize that I want to keep going. I need to say all of the things I’ve never said before.   
“Then Piper started to, you know. God, I was so scared. I thought she would end up like my mom, a grown woman relying on a thirteen year old kid. I- shit,” I say. Tears begin to work their way down my cheeks again.  
“Piper’s okay now,” Reyna says. “She’s good. Thanks to you.”  
“I know,” I nod. “But Nico’s not. It was- when I went over, to work on our project. He was really freaked out the whole time, you know? Social anxiety, I guess. All he knew about me was that I play football, like Dylan, like all of the other assholes at our school.”  
“Oh, come on,” she says. “You’re not an asshole. Well not that big of one,” she smiles.  
I don’t. “I knew they were picking on him, the other guys. I never said anything. I should have stopped them. I should have- I should have known.”  
She shakes her head. “Don’t blame yourself for not being able to read his mind.”  
“I still should have done something. He cut himself, when I was there, you know. I freaked him out so much that he went to the bathroom and cut himself.”  
“That’s not your fault.”  
“Isn’t it?” I laugh.  
“No,” she says firmly. “I can’t say that you shouldn’t have stopped them from picking on him. Everyone else should have, too. I can say that you should forgive yourself. Nico forgave you a long time ago.”  
I close my eyes. “I know he did. I’m just not sure I deserve it.”  
Her voice suddenly hardens. “Everybody deserves forgiveness.”  
“I-“  
“No,” she cuts me off. “You deserve forgiveness. And you’ve helped him more than anyone else has been able to. But I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow we’re going over to his house, and we’re going to tell his parents.”  
“What?” I say.  
“We’re going to tell them what he’s doing, and they’re going to get him real help. He’ll get better, and you can support him through it, but you don’t have to carry all of his weight.”  
“But-“  
“Don’t argue. If you won’t tell, I’ll do it myself. You know it needs to be done.”  
I meet her eyes, and gratitude washes over me. I never thought I’d feel so grateful to have someone else make a decision for me. I just can’t deal with any more responsibility. I nod. “Okay.”  
She smiles at me. “Come on, we should go back.”  
She starts to stand up, but I say, “Reyna, wait.”  
She sits back down, looking expectantly at me.   
“Just. Thank you.”  
She smiles again and ruffles my hair. “Come on.”  
The drive back to my house is quiet. I stare out the window the whole time, just thinking. Clouds have moved in front of the sun and it looks like it might rain soon. I’m not surprised; all it ever does is rain.  
When we get back to the house, Reyna squeezes arm as we walk up the driveway. She tells me that it’s going to be okay one more time, and I believe her.  
When we walk in, Piper and my mom are sitting at the table together and laughing at something. Just leave it to Piper to make anyone feel at ease. She’s eating a grilled cheese sandwich, given she wouldn’t go near that taco meat with a ten foot pole. My mom’s drinking a cup of tea.  
“How’s Nico?” I ask.  
“Sleeping,” Piper replies. “We gave him some Ibuprofen, too.”  
“Good,” I say.  
“How are you?” she asks, eyeing my red knuckles.  
“I’m good,’ I say.  
She gives me a look that says, “We’ll talk later”.  
Reyna joins them at the table, but I don’t. I tell them that I’m going to check on Nico and disappear down the hallway.   
Even though it’s still afternoon, the room is dark; the blinds are shut and the lights are off. I don’t turn them on and I tiptoe in as quietly as I can, but Nico’s eyes still open when I walk in.  
“Hey,” he croaks.  
“Hey. I was just making sure that you’re okay. Go back to sleep.”  
He turns on his side and props his arm up on his elbow. Well, he tries to. From the look of it, the movement hurt his arm. He groans and flops down on his back.  
“Is the sky blue?”  
“Well, actually, it only-“   
“Jason,” he cuts me off, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not now.”  
I smile back. “Right. Sorry. Just- get some sleep.” I turn to leave.  
“Wait,” he says.  
“Yeah?”  
“Can you- will you stay with me?”  
He looks so vulnerable, and sad, and adorable, that I couldn’t possibly say no.  
“Yeah,” I reply. “Of course.”  
I move to sit in the chair that’s still next to the bed, but as I do, he scoots over to the far side of the bed, making room for me to lay with him.  
I eye him questioningly, and he pulls back the covers so that I can get under them. I do. He lifts himself up and repositions himself so that he’s lying halfway on top of me, his head resting against my chest. I curl my arm around him.  
“You never told me about your mom,” he says. “Why not?”  
“It just never felt like the right time,” I respond. In reality, I don’t know why I didn’t tell him. Maybe I thought he couldn’t handle it, or that he wouldn’t care. Honestly, though, I think I was just afraid. Piper and Reyna were the only ones who knew about her. I’m not used to talking about it.  
“I like her,” he says.  
He drifts off shortly after that, looking more content than I’ve ever seen him.   
I fall asleep to the rhythm of his chest rising and falling like the tide.  
We’re awoken a few hours later when Nico’s phone rings.  
Confused and not quite away yet, he fumbles with it before answering it.   
“Percy?” he asks.  
I can just barely hear Percy on the other side. The relief in his voice is audible. “Where are you?”  
“Oh. Um- I’m at Jason’s house.  
“Jason’s house? What are you doing over there?”  
“We’re just, you know, hanging out.”  
“You could have told me,” Percy says. “I just got home; I’ve been freaking out. I had no idea where you were, man.”  
“I’m sorry,” Nico says sincerely. “I was just about to leave. I’ll come home now.”  
“Okay,” Percy replies. “See you then.”  
Nico hangs up and looks at me with wide eyes. “I think I’m in trouble.”  
“It’ll be fine,” I say as I stand up. “No big deal.”  
“Nico sits up all the way. “He found out.”  
“Found out what?”  
“About me. The other day. He found – he found one of my blades.”  
I wheel around to look at him. “What did he say? Did he tell your parents?”  
“Fortunately, no. I convinced him not to. For now, at least. I told him- I told him I would tell.”  
“Are you going to?”  
“I- I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m going to do.” He’s completely lost the look of contentment he had when he was asleep, and looks nervous and on edge again. As usual.   
He stands up, stretching his arms but wincing in pain as he does. “Can I- you know, borrow a sweatshirt? I don’t want Percy to see these…”  
I nod, stepping towards my closet. I pull out a plain black one because it’s the smallest one I own. Of course, it’s still huge on him.   
We exit my room and walk down the hall to find my mom sitting alone on the couch, mindlessly watching TV.  
“Where did Piper and Reyna go?” I inquire.  
“They went home about an hour ago,” she says. “Do you need to get home, Nico?”  
It surprises me that she actually addresses him instead of just talking through me. I think it surprises him, too, but he nods.   
“You can take the car, Jason. Reyna told me he’s only around the corner.”  
“Seriously?” I ask. She nods.  
I don’t have my license, or my permit, for that matter, because driving gives my mom a lot of anxiety, and I guess she doesn’t like the idea of me behind the wheel, either. We have an old ’92 Lexus sitting around in our garage, though, and I’ve driven it a few times.  
I grab the keys off the counter. Nico follows me through a door on the side of the house that leads to the garage. I push the unlock button on the keys. Then I walk around to the passenger side and open the door for Nico.   
Once we’re in, I say,” You better put your seatbelt on. I don’t have a license.”  
He looks alarmed, but doesn’t say anything. I laugh. “Don’t worry. I haven’t killed anyone yet.   
For some reason, that doesn’t do much to abate his worry.  
I start the car and pull out of the driveway. Of course, it’s raining again.   
“Can I ask you something?” I say as we turn off my street.   
“Yeah,” he says, though his voice is small and he looks like he wants to say no.  
“Why did you do it?”  
“Do ‘it’?”  
“You know what I mean. Why did you do this to yourself?”  
“Oh,” he says. “Um- I don’t like this question.”  
I lose my temper a little bit. “Seriously? Don’t you think that after everything, I deserve at least that much?”  
He starts to cry again, and doesn’t answer. Shit. Another car drives by and its headlights illuminate the raindrops on the windshield, making them sparkle like diamonds. The light washes over Nico’s face, highlighting the hurt written all over his face, and it’s all my fault. Again.  
“Look- I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I just really- I care about you a lot. I hate seeing you like this.”  
“I’m ashamed,” he says suddenly and loudly. “Is that what you want to hear?” I’m ashamed.”  
“Err- What?”  
“You don’t understand what it’s like, being like this. Like me. You’ve only ever been on the outside. You don’t understand what it’s like to have- to have something so… wrong with you.” He’s yelling now, and his cheeks are turning red.  
“There’s nothing wrong with-“  
“Don’t go there, please. There’s a lot wrong with me,” he says as we turn onto his street.  
“Well I don’t care!” I shout as his house comes into view. We park along the sidewalk and I turn the car off. We’re both breathing heavily, and I feel my anger from earlier returning.”   
“I don’t care,” I repeat, my voice barely a whisper. “Yes, I have spent my entire life on the outside of this. I will never understand what it’s like to be on the inside. But you know what people on the inside of it never understand? What they’re doing to the people around them. How much they’re hurting them.”  
He doesn’t respond.  
“I love, you, Nico.”  
The world around us stops, and for a moment, for an infinity, nothing else is real. We are all that matters.  
But then he takes off his seatbelt, opens the car door, climbs out, and slams the door behind him. Then he runs.  
All he ever does is run.  
This time, I don’t follow.


	12. Chapter 12 Nico's Point of View

I go to Bianca because I have nowhere else to go. My window is closed off against the cold outside, but after pulling on my aviator jacket, I open it and climb out onto the roof. The air nips at my skin and I shiver, pulling my sleeves down so they cover my hands, and I cross my arms. The stars decorate the sky above and help the moon illuminate the darkness. I think of the story I told Jason in this very spot, about how, when we were younger, and whenever we were apart, Bianca and I would look up at the moon and feel comforted knowing we were both doing the same. However far apart we were, we were never far enough as to not be under the same sky. But now we are. She has gone beyond the sky, where I can’t find her, can’t see her, can’t hear her.

I can’t even feel her.

Afterwards, at the funeral, everybody always told me I could find comfort in knowing she was looking down on me. But I don’t think she is. She has gone somewhere where I can no longer say, “I’m alone and I’m scared and I need your help”.

Please hear me, Bianca. Please.

I start to talk. I don’t know if anyone is listening, but I keep talking. “I miss you. It’s been a while, but I still miss you. I still need you.” I hear my voice break at the confession. “A lot has changed since you’ve been gone, and I’ve changed, and I’m changing. I don’t think anyone else understands this, but I know you do. You would.” I know I’m rambling, but the words are just pouring out of my mouth. I’m not making any sense, but I hope that, if Bianca is listening, she doesn’t mind too much. 

“I met a boy,” I start, wiping my nose on my sleeve. “Smart, handsome. Funny. You’d like him,” I hesitate. “He said he loves me. He knows- He knows the horrible things I do to myself, and he says he loves me.”

I choke back a sob. “He loves me, Bianca, he wants to love me and I won’t let him. I loved- love- you and look how that’s turned out for me. You’re gone and I’m still pretending you can hear me!” 

I shake my head. “I loved Percy and he never even gave me a second thought. And it hurt. Nobody should have that power!” I shout, louder than I should at this time of night. “I always feel things too deeply. Love too much. And I can’t ever let go of people.”

I close my eyes as hot tears work their way down my cold, numb cheeks. My heart threatens to burst from the pain of it all, and the tears just keep coming, though they provide little release. While part of me wishes they would stop, I know that they feel better falling than they would kept inside. I’m tired of keeping everything locked up inside. When I’m finally able to speak again, my voice sounds so broken that it scares me. “I have tried,” I start, my voice shaking with resignation, “for years, to turn my heart to stone. To build up walls too high for anyone to climb. To hold everything in and bleed it out at the end of the day, in the safety of an empty room behind locked doors.

And then he came. And God, Bianca, he’s beautiful,” I breath. “He’s so beautiful, I don’t even care that he’s a he. He was just some stupid jock, just like the rest of them. But then he wasn’t just a jock, but much, much more. Now you could tell me that he hung the moon in the sky, that he painted the stars, and I wouldn’t even question it. He’s so much more than a pretty face, than the school’s football star. I don’t know that he believes it, though.” 

I pause, trying to find the best way to describe it. “He’s the kind of beautiful you’d want to hold you at three in the morning, when the rest of the world’s asleep. He’s the one you’d want there to ground you when your thoughts run away. He’s the kind of beautiful you would kiss with the sun filtering in through the window, even when you both woke up with morning breath. He’s the kind of beautiful that makes everything else seem somehow more beautiful, rather than duller by comparison. I don’t know how he does it. He’s like the pretty light that colors the world right before the sun sets. He is the sunset, and the sunrise, and the rain against the pavement. He’s the white blanket of winter, the burning embers of a fire, and every other beautiful thing in the world. He is every goddamn beautiful thing, and I can’t tell him I love him.” I laugh at how unfunny the whole thing is, and I laugh at myself for messing things up so badly.

“I’m afraid, Bianca,” I say, my voice young and old and hopeless and desperate. “I can’t tell him I love him because I’m afraid.”


	13. Chapter 13 Jason's Point of View

“Calm down,” Reyna tells me. “It’s all going to be fine. And they’re going to be grateful that you told them the truth.”

“Calm is my middle name,” I say, though I feel very far from calm. “I just- What if he already hates me? After what I said yesterday…”

“Jason, you’re being ridiculous. He really, really likes you. He’s just… He’s at rock bottom, right now, I think. He’s scared and doesn’t know what to do, but he doesn’t hate you. 

“He will if I go through with this,” I say.

Reyna and I are sitting in her car, parked a little ways down from Nico’s house. We’ve already been here for nearly half an hour, because I keep talking myself out of doing this. 

“Well we can’t sit here forever,” Reyna decides. She opens the door and climbs out, looking as cool and collected as ever. I don’t know how she does it. “Are you coming?”

Now or never, I guess. 

I get out and join her on the sidewalk. I’m wringing my hands, they way I’ve seen Nico do so many times.

“How are you so sure he’s not going to hate me?”

“How do you think, Jason? Imagine Nico a year or two from now, fully recovered. Is he going to hate you for having gotten him the help he needed?”

“Well, no, but-“

“There are no ‘buts’. Where do you think I would be if my sister hadn’t told someone what I was doing?”

“Well you probably wouldn’t be-“

“I wouldn’t be at all. I would be dead. I was angry at Hylla at the time, but now I know that I owe her my life.”

We arrive at their front door step, and Reyna looks at me. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, okay.”

I ring the doorbell.

Ms. Jackson opens it, wearing a huge smile and an old, paint-splattered shirt.

“Jason!” she exclaims. “And…” she trails off, looking to Reyna.

“I’m Reyna,” she says with a smile that looks almost pained.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ms. Jackson says warmly. “Should I get Nico? Or perhaps you’re here for Percy.”

“Um, actually, Ms. Jackson-“

“Oh, please, call me Sally, dear.”

“Sally,” Reyna continues. “There’s something we want to talk to you about.”

“To me?” she says, confused.

“Maybe we should sit down,” I suggest. 

Ms. Jackson purses her lips and nods, like she’s beginning to pick up on our serious demeanor. 

“Should I make some tea?” she asks.

Reyna and I both say, “No thank you” at the same time as we sit down in chairs next to each other at the table.

She joins us. “So what is this about?”

Reyna looks at me expectantly. “It’s- We’re here about Nico,” I begin. Unfortunately, I’m not sure what to say next. 

“Nico?” she asks. “What about him? Is everything okay?”

She already knows, of course, that everything is not okay. She sees how little he eats, how little he weighs, how little he smiles. How little he leaves his bed.

“We’re really- We’re worried about him. We’re sure you’ve noticed that- Well, he’s not- He’s not himself lately.”

She closes her eyes and exhales. Then she nods. “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

It seems out of character to me, because Reyna is usually so reserved, but she reaches across the table and takes Ms. Jackson’s hand. “Yes,” she says. “Yeah. We do.”

Ms. Jackson looks between both of our faces and tries to see what answers are written there. 

I decide it’s best to say it quickly, to rip it off like a band-aid. Of course, in this case, the pain won’t stop once I’m done.

“Nico is severely depressed,” I say all in one breath. “He’s been- He-“

I can’t continue.

“He cuts himself,” Reyna finishes for me.

Silence falls over the room as she attempts to process what we’ve told her. 

“I don’t understand,” she says finally. “You mean he… he…”

Reyna and I both nod. 

“Why would- Why would he do that?”

I try to open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Ms. Jackson looks like she’s going to cry, and while I know it’s irrational, I feel like it’s my fault. Again. It’s always my fault.

Reyna has to answer for me. “Well there are a lot of different reasons that someone might… you know. It’s become very common these days, too. We think that this is his way of expressing what’s going on inside of him.”

I don’t know how she still sounds so calm.

Ms. Jackson begins to cry. Reyna gets out of her seat and goes to hug her. I stay where I am, frozen.

“How could I have missed this?” she chokes out.

“It’s not your fault,” Reyna assures her, rubbing her back and looking me straight in the eye. “He did everything he could to hide it, but it’s not too late.”

Hazel chooses that moment to walk down the stairs. Upon seeing Reyna and I in the kitchen, and her adoptive mother crying, her expression falls. 

“What’s going on?” she demands. She crosses to the kitchen and takes Reyna’s place hugging Ms. Jackson. Reyna looks grateful and sits back down again. 

“What’s going on?” she repeats. “Is this- This is about Nico, isn’t it?”

I nod, and gesture that she should sit down. She doesn’t, but instead stays at Sally’s side. 

“I should have told you when you asked,” I begin. 

“Yeah, you should have. Stop stalling.” For someone usually so sweet and kind, she’s kind of scaring me.

She’s angry at me. I’m angry at me. This is all my fault.

I can’t say it. I can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. 

I leave it to Reyna to be the strong one.

Hazel’s mouth falls open when Reyna tells her. She looks at Reyna, and then me, and then Sally. A thousand emotions cross over her face, but she never voices her disbelief. Once the shock wears off enough for her to act, she pushes away from Ms. Jackson. She backs up, slowly, at first-

And then she bolts up the stairs.


	14. Chapter 14 Nico's Point of View

I’m sitting with my knees to my chest watching the sun peek out from behind its clouds. The world is this pretty, pale blue light, and for a moment, everything is peaceful. Everything is okay.

Then I hear footsteps thundering up the stairs and I have to get up to see what’s going on. I’m about to open my bedroom door when someone else opens it from the outside and hits me in the head.

As I rub the pounding spot, I’m reminded of the time Jason hit me with a door, after Dylan threw his applesauce at me. Even that memory of being soaking wet and smelling like baby food seems like I good one by now.

This time, though, it’s Hazel, not Jason, who’s responsible for my new injury. I shouldn’t feel disappointed, but I do. 

She enters, apologizing profusely. Her eyes are red and rimmed with tears. She looks… angry, almost, but that’s not quite it; I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this, though, and it scares me a bit. It hits me that yes, she’s yellow like the sunflowers that grow in the summer, but she’s also the color of the sun. And the sun could burn up the world if it wanted to. 

What she does next, though, surprises me. She steps forward, and I almost think she might hit me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she throws her arm around my shoulders and buries her face in my neck. Though I’m completely bewildered, I wrap my arms around her waist; I don’t know what else to do. We stay like that for a long while, and it feels good. I close my eyes.

When she pulls away, it looks like her heart has grown heavy in her chest. 

Then she surprises me again. She wraps her hand around my wrist and- ow. The stinging of my cuts flares up again. 

“Ow, don’t, stop,” I say in a strangled voice as I attempt to pull away. “What the hell are you doing?”

Then she yanks up my sleeve and I know. I turn away; I don’t want to see the look on her face when she sees them. Jason’s and Percy’s and Reyna’s faces were bad enough. 

“I didn’t want to believe it,” she breathes. Her voice sounds the way I’d imagine a breaking heart sounds like when it shatters. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demands. “Look at me!”

I do, and it’s even worse than I imagined. The look on her face is worse than everyone else’s combined. It’s shock and fear and rage and pain and it’s horrible. And it’s all my fault. I’m the one who made her feel all of these awful things. 

“I- I didn’t want to hurt you,” I say finally, as her eyes bore into me. It is true, but that’s as much of the truth as I want to give. One time, when I was maybe 13, this kid dared me to hold a lit cigarette to my skin. Being young and stupid, I did it. I still have the scar from it. How can I tell her that the shame I feel is like a cigarette burning away at my insides? Everyone is always so shocked when they find out, but they don’t know that I’m always shocked with myself, every minute of every say. It’s like I’m constantly rediscovering my scars, and every time I do, it’s in a worse light. 

“Don’t you think it hurts, knowing you kept this from me?” she says, all of a sudden eerily calm. “Jason knew before me. What makes you trust him over me?”

“It’s not like that,” I begin. “He found out on accident. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anyone. But I do- I trust you.”

“Right. Just not with the important things.”

“Just listen, okay?” I say. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think less of me, or to be afraid of me, or, or-“

“Nico,” she cuts me off. “I would never think less of you for something like this. Ever.” 

Her voice is so firm, and I feel so… not firm. I just stare at her, unable to form a coherent thought. 

“You are my favorite person in this world. You know that, right? You know that.”

For a second I have to wonder if it’s true. Do I know that? Part of me feels like she’s just saying that because she feels like she has to. 

“You’re mine too,” I say finally, in a child-like voice. 

Her eyes soften, and she hugs me again.

A minute later she pulls away saying, “Wait.”

“What?”

She grabs my arm again, though more gently this time, and examines it. 

“How did you get stitches without going to a hospital? You didn’t, did you?”

“Oh. Um…” I hesitate, knowing she won’t be happy with me. “Jason did them for me.”

“He what?” she demands. 

“He knows how, he’s done them before-“

But she doesn’t wait for me to finish. “Jason Grace!” she shouts as she walks back down the stairs.

Does that mean Jason is here? Wait a second, did he tell on me? I kind of assumed it was Percy. Or anyone else but Jason. My mind flashes back to the day after he found out. In Spanish class, he promised me that he would keep it a secret. He promised me, and I believed it.

But now everybody knows. 

My thoughts are interrupted by a second pair of footsteps on the stairs. They’re heavier and slower than Hazel’s.

Ms. Jackson.

She appears in the doorway with blotchy skin, red eyes, and a runny nose. Cool. Just add her to the list of people I’ve made cry in the last few days.

She sits down on the edge of my unmade bed. I don’t; I feel less vulnerable standing up, like I can run if I need to. And I feel like I might; my heart is working too quickly and I feel myself starting to sweat. 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks suddenly after moments of silence.

“No?” I say, confused. She looks as though she doesn’t believe me, so I add, “I started before- Before I lived here, if that’s what you mean.”

Slowly, she nods. “How long?”

“After- After Bianca. 

She nods once more. “You wear long sleeves every day. You do your own laundry, and spend way too long in the shower. You barely ever leave your bedroom. How could I have missed this?”

“Uh-“

“After Percy was born, I was severely depressed. When I was with Gabe I was too. I know what it’s like. I should have caught on sooner.”

“I never knew that,” I say quietly.

“I had to get help,” she says. Sometimes people do. And it’s okay for them to admit that.”

“I don’t need… I’ll stop, I can stop, I promise.”

She shakes her head, not buying it. “It’s okay,” she says, though I’m not really sure what she means.

We sit in silence for a while before she stands up suddenly. “What have you eaten today?”

“Um, I had-“

“Nothing?” she says knowingly. “Come on, I’ll make you some toast.”


	15. Nico's Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another short chapter. Sorry about that... But I hope you enjoy :)

My phone buzzes next to my ear and wakes me up from an unfortunately short nap. I pick it up and squint to read the screen. It’s a message from Reyna.

"Come outside", it reads. I bury my face into my pillow. I’d rather not. But, considering how good she’s been to me, I figure I don’t have much of a choice. She more than likely knows I’m here; where else would I be? So I tell her that I’ll be right down and force myself out of bed. 

I’m betting she’s here to talk about Jason. More specifically, how I haven’t talked to him since he told on me. I don’t know why she’d be surprised by that one, though; he broke his promise. I don’t owe him anything.

Nevertheless, I pull a sweatshirt over my head and hastily run my fingers through my hair. I look like complete shit, but I feel too much like shit to care. I head downstairs.

Paul is sitting at the couch watching some documentary about the French Revolution. When he sees me, he says, “I think there’s a girl outside here to see you.”

“Thanks,” I say. He’s been really awkward ever since he found out. I mean, I guess he’s nice enough about it, but he doesn’t seem to know what to say.

Well, nobody does, but he’s the worst at faking it.

It’s pouring rain again. Reyna’s standing outside of her car bundled up in a denim jacket and a scarf, looking miserable. She waves to me, and then motions for me to get in her car before climbing in herself. I follow her, thankful for the relief from the cold and the rain that her car offers. 

“What are you doing here?” I ask. She seems to be the only one who doesn’t mind when I’m blunt. I like that about her.

“I’m guessing you already know. Want to get some lunch?” 

“Um, sure,” I say. “But if this is about Jason, I’m not going to talk to him. He shouldn’t have told on me.”

“I know you’re angry,” she says. 

“Yeah, well, I have a right to be.” 

Neither of us says anything else until we get to a small diner a few minutes away from my house. There are only a few other cars on the road, but we have to drive slowly because the ground is covered in huge puddles from the nearly constant rain. The sky is gloomy, making me long for the comfort of my own bed again. 

The diner is small and cozy, but smells like greasy food and cleaning supplies. For some reason, it’s not entirely unpleasant. We both somehow agree to head to the table in the back without using any words. We sit down opposite of each other. Given as there’s only one other person in here, a waitress immediately comes to our table. 

“Hello, good afternoon, my name is Megan and I’ll be taking care of you today,” she says. She has blonde hair down to her waist and is wearing a plain white T-shirt with a name tag and a pair of black jeans. She only looks like she’s a year or two older than us. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Uh, yeah, can I have a hot chocolate, please?” Reyna says.

I look at her nervously; I didn’t think this through. I’m not very good at ordering my own food. As Megan turns to me, I feel my cheeks go hot. Fortunately, Reyna’s eyes widen in realization and she tells her that I’ll have a hot chocolate, too. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize…” she says. 

“It’s fine. No big deal.”

Reyna opens her menu and begins to speak. “Jason didn’t want to tell, you know. I made him.”

Fuck. “What?” I demand. Well, I try to sound demanding, but it comes off as more of a whisper.

“Just hear me out, will you?”

“How could you do that?”

“You have to know deep down that this is for the best, right?”

“Reyna, they won’t even leave me by myself for two minute. They’re not even letting me close my door anymore, and if I take more than ten minutes in the shower, someone’s there, pounding on the door. They forced me to go to the doctor’s, forced me on medication I don’t really want. I have to sit down with them and eat three meals a day. If I try and opt out of hanging out with the family, I immediately get asked what’s wrong. It feels like a prison sentence.”

“Oh, god,” she says. “I’m sorry. I remember what that’s like.”

“Uh- What do you mean?”

“I need you to know that we really did tell on you because we care about you,” she begins.

“Reyna, what did you mean by that?”

Instead of replying, she begins to shrug off her jacket. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You’re not the only one with scars, you know.”

She folds her jacket on her lap, puts her arm on the table, and rolls up her knit sweater. Near the top of her forearm, there are a bunch of small scars that look like holes.

“These are from my freshman year of high school.”

“What- Did you…?”

“I was a heroine addict,” she says, as-a-matter-of-factly. “I mean, that’s not the only drug I did, but that was the main one. I drank a lot, too.”

Shit, shit, shit. 

Still struggling to process the new information with my old perception of Reyna, I ask her why.

She shrugs. “Same as you, I guess. I heard somewhere that we all get addicted to something that takes the pain away. I was sad and lonely, and my father was a mean drunk.”

Shit.  
“I- I’m sorry,” I say. “I had no idea…”

“I would probably be dead right now, if my sister hadn’t found out, you know. We got in a fight one night, and I stormed out. She followed me to this party, and found me, well, you know.

My dad didn’t really give a shit, so she went to my grandma. I was admitted to a psych ward, and I didn’t get released for weeks. It was bad. Sometimes it’s still bad, even three years later, but Piper helps.”

“I- god, I had no idea.”

The waitress chooses that moment to come back with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. It actually looks good, which is the first for a long time. 

She sets them down in front of us as she says, “Are you ready to order?”

“Oh, um,” Reyna says, looking startled.

I take a deep breath in. “Can I have a grilled cheese, please?” 

Reyna smiles at me. “Actually, I’ll have that too.” 

“Sure thing,” Megan says cheerily. “I’ll have that right out for you.”

“So do you understand why I had to do it?” 

“I- I guess so-“

“It’s not Jason’s fault, so stop blaming him. At least talk to him, it’s been nearly a week. He’s been moping around the entire time.” She smiles. “It’s actually kind of adorable, how much he cares about you. It reminds me of Piper and I in the early days.”

Desperate for a subject change, I ask, “How did you guys get together?”

Her smile grows even bigger as the memory flashes before her eyes. “It’s actually sort of similar to you and Jason. It was at school, sophomore year. I had stayed up all night studying for a final, and so in the morning, I downed like a shitload of coffee. After I finished the test, I really had to pee. I practically ran to the bathroom, but when I got there, it was locked from the inside. I heard her inside, crying.”

“Did she let you in?”

“Yup,” she says. “I guess I banged on the door hard enough to scare her. Anyways, after I was done peeing, I let her cry into my shoulder. She told me pretty much everything; she really does talk a lot. After that, we were pretty much inseparable.”

“That’s going to be a good story to tell the grandkids.”

She laughs, right as Megan comes back carrying two plates on a tray. 

As she sets them down, she says, “So, if you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been together? You two are adorable.”

Reyna locks eyes with me and as she does, we both burst into laughter. We laugh until we’re both nearly in tears as Megan stands there, looking confused.

“Did I say something funny?”

“I’m gay,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“And I’m dating a girl,” Reyna says.

Megan’s eyes widen and blush rises to her cheeks. “Oh- I’m- Uh- I didn’t-“ 

“It’s okay,” Reyna says. “You didn’t know.”

After we finish our food and leave the restaurant, we both begin cracking up again. We laugh the whole way home.


	16. Nico's Point of View

I don't want to be afraid anymore.


	17. Jason's Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas you guys :)

It’s Christmas Eve, and I’ve spent the entire day doing my break Calculus homework; My mom has been hiding in her bedroom all day and my friends are all with their families. I doubt I’ll even have anything to eat tonight. It’s not like I’m surprised; holidays in my house are almost always like this. I can’t help but feeling disappointed, though, because Christmas is my favorite holiday.

I’m about to get up to get more coffee when my cell phone rings. I dive for it, on the slight chance it might be Nico.

To my surprise, it actually is this time. 

“Jason,” he says. He doesn’t sound angry, but I know he must be; he’s been ignoring me for a week.

“Hey,” I respond. “What’s up?” I ask, though there are a hundred more pressing questions running through my mind.

“Want to come over?” he asks.

“Uh- Yeah, sure, but aren’t you with your family?”

“They said it’s okay. Everyone’s helping make dinner, but letting me help… let’s just say that wouldn’t be smart.”

I notice that this is the first time he’s ever called Ms. Jackson Sally. It makes me even more confused. He sounds… good. But he should be pissed at me, and probably his family, too. Who knows how they’re reacting to everything.

Once I get off the phone with him, I pull on a pair of shoes and this knit Christmas sweater with a snowman on it. I leave my mom a note on the counter after checking to see that she’s asleep. Then I get the keys and get in the car. I drive to his house way faster than an unlicensed kid probably should, but I arrive in one piece.

When I do, he’s already sitting on the curb. He’s wearing my jacket again, and the sight of him relieves nervous energy I didn’t even know I had. He’s wearing my jacket, and he doesn’t look angry, and he doesn’t hate me. He does look serious, though, but he smiles when he sees me. I smile back.

He stands up and I walk to him, stopping with about 5 feet between us. 

“Hey,” I say.

“Let’s go on a walk,” he says without hesitation. “I haven’t looked at all of the lights yet this year.”

I smile. “I used to do that every year, when I was little, until…” I trail off.

He nods knowingly. “Let’s go.”

I follow him onto the sidewalk, where we end up next to each other. I notice him trying to match his steps with mine.

It’s a beautiful night tonight. It’s cold, but the sky is clear and the stars are bright. For some reason, I’m reminded of a story my mom told me when I was little. She said that stars were actually holes poked in the sky, and that their light was light from heaven shining through. I’m smiling at the memory when Nico pulls me out of my own head.

“I was really, really angry at you, at first,” he says.

“Yeah, all of the ignored texts and calls kind of clued me in on that one.”

“Sorry,” he says half-heartedly. “Reyna came by the other day, though, and somehow managed to convince me to talk to you. She’s very persuasive.” 

“Yeah,” I agree awkwardly. “How did- How’s everyone taking it?”

“There’s been a lot of hugging and crying,” he says honestly. “And when they found out about the stitches, they forced me to get them checked out by a doctor. Surprisingly, he was impressed by your work and said they were safe to leave in.”

“Well, of course,” I joke. I don’t know what else to say. 

“They put me on Zoloft,” he says.

“Really?” I ask. “How is it?”

“Well it hasn’t really done much yet but make me sick. Supposedly that’ll go away in a few days, though. And they’re- I’m being forced against my will to see a therapist.”

“Really?” I ask again. “When?”

“Two days. Merry Christmas to me.”

“Hey, this is going to be good for you.”

He doesn’t respond, but busies himself looking at the lights strung from the houses. We pass one that someone went all out on; it’s hard to look at because there are so many lights, and the ground is covered with fake snow. There’s a snowman that lights up and wave when you walk by it; it must have a motion sensor. Set up on the roof is a full-size sleigh with nine fake reindeer attached. In it sits a Santa with a very full belly and a couple of elves.

The next house has a blow up Santa in a leather jacket sitting on a motorcycle. When Nico sees it, his face lights up with joy. Seeing him smile again warms me up from the inside out, and I laugh at how childlike he seems. It both surprises me and amazes me that someone who feels his pain so deeply can feel so much happiness at something so simple. 

Like my puns.

“We should take a picture with him,” I suggest, only half joking. 

His face falls. “Oh- Um, I don’t really, you know. I don’t like pictures.”

“Come on, don’t be silly,” I say. I know he’s not really being silly, and that I should take his fears seriously, but I think he’s taking himself too seriously. I pull out my phone and walk towards the Santa. “Besides, you look good.”

This makes him so flustered that he actually agrees, joining me at the Santa’s side. I open the front camera on my phone and hold it up, wrapping my arm around both Nico’s and the Santa’s shoulders. The flash goes off when I take it.

I pull the phone closer and grin at the picture. Both of our cheeks and noses are bright red from the cold. I’m sticking my tongue out and he’s smiling through closed lips. He’s also holding up two fingers behind my head, making it look like I have bunny ears.

“Seriously?” I laugh.

He shrugs, pretending to look innocent.

My heart suddenly swells. “Can I hold your hand?” I ask all in one breath. 

He nods timidly and holds his hand out to me. I intertwine my fingers through his. It’s not the first time we’ve done this, but something about it is different this time. It’s always so raw and real and intense with him, because that’s the way he feels things. Tonight, though, it’s exciting and somehow new and it makes me feel alive.

We keep walking.

“Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year,” he says as we pass another elaborately decorated house.

“Really?”

“Is it that surprising?”

“Kind of,” I reply truthfully. “It’s mine too, though. I mean, in case the dorky sweater didn’t clue you in.”

He laughs, pretending to see my sweater for the first time. “Oh, I didn’t notice. I just. Everyone is so much happier and kinder. And I love the lights,” he adds, looking up at them. 

“And there are cookies.”

“That too,” he chuckles. “Sally makes the best cookies. Not that I can really eat them anymore, though…” He trails off.

“That’s the second time you’ve called her Sally, today,” I point out.

“So?” 

“You’ve always called her Ms. Jackson.”

“Oh,” he hesitates. “I guess after everything, it seems too formal. I- this will probably sound dumb.”

“Probably,” I say. “Say it anyways.”

He looks at me like he’s discovering something new. “I never really felt at home there until… Until they found out. I mean, I feel a little bit like I’m in prison still, and whenever it’s brought up I want to hide. But they’re- they’re just supportive, I guess.”

“I know what you mean. I mean, my family’s broken. I have to take care of my mom. And I guess I don’t remember what having a real, safe home feels like.”

There’s a moment of silence, in which a billion unsaid things seem to pass between us.

But this time, Nico doesn’t leave them unsaid. 

He stops in front of a streetlight decorated with garland, so I do too. He looks up at me. His eyes sparkle like the stars.

“You feel like home,” he whispers.

“You do, too,” I say, and it’s true. As cheesy as it sounds. 

There’s another silence as a car passes by us before he says, “Are we going to- to talk about what you said?”

“What?” I ask with no idea what he’s talking about.

Then it hits me.

I said “I love you”.

And he ran away.

But tonight, he’s not running. 

He’s staring up at me, waiting for a response. He’s-

He’s staring at my lips.

I smirk. “You can kiss me if you want.”

His eyes widen as he turns a furious shade of pink. “I wasn’t-“

But I don’t want to listen to his excuses, not tonight. I gently cup his face as I lean forward and crush our lips together. He stands up on his toes, and I laugh into his mouth. He doesn’t pull away, but he kisses me harder, like he’s hungry for something only I can give him.

And god, it’s amazing. It’s everything we’ve felt in the past few weeks in one kiss. It’s like the music that makes you feel alive. We are alive and we feel as bright as the stars.

When we pull apart, I say, “Does that mean you love me, too?”

He punches me in the arm.

I take that as a yes.


	18. Nico's Point of View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading my story, I hope you've enjoyed it :)

“Do we really have to do this? I’m pretty sure that nobody will notice if we don’t go.”

“Yes,” Jason replies, even though I’ve already asked this about a million times, and he must be getting annoyed. “I already told everyone that we’re coming.”

“Remind me again why I agreed to this? Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Nico, besides us, there’s going to be seven people. Two of whom you live with. The rest of them sit at your table at school. I’m not sure that I’d really call it a party.”

“If it’s not a party, then why am I wearing a tie?” I point out. “I look completely ridiculous.”

“You look good,” he says, stepping closer to me. “Permission to kiss?”

I pout at him before rolling my eyes and saying, “Permission granted.”

The kiss is small and sweet, but every bit as exciting as the first one.

But after it, I turn away. Sometimes I still find it hard to look into his eyes when I speak. “I just- I haven’t seen them since, you know, they found out.”

Annabeth, Frank, and Leo were the only ones who didn’t know about me. Annabeth figured it out on her own, shortly after Percy did. Then Frank and Leo, who aren’t exactly best friends, got together and demanded to know what was going on. It was causing quite a bit of drama, so I decided to let Hazel tell them. Well, as much as they needed to know.

I was just hoping I’d never have to show my face around them again.

But now it’s New Year’s Eve, and Piper’s throwing what is definitely a party; anything with more than two people is a party. And somehow, Jason talked me into making an appearance. It might possibly be because he promised he’d spend the rest of the night with me.

“They’re good people, you know,” he says. “You trust me, right?”

Hesitantly, I turn back to him and I nod. 

“Well I trust them. They understand, and just want for you to get better.”

Quietly, I say, “I want to get better, too.”

“I know,” he says. “And I know you’re trying. But I also know that you did it again.”

“What?”

“You cut. Your side.”

“How did you-?”

“I can read minds,” he says mystically, like the massive dork that he is. “Now, can I see?”

“It’s not bad,” I say quickly. 

“I know,” he responds. “But still- I’d like to see, if that’s okay with you.”

Slowly, I nod, even though I’d rather not. This time wasn’t like the other times. I lift my shirt up. On my side, a little bit above my hip, there’s a word carved in angry red letters:

Shame.

He sighs and closes his eyes. “Nico…”

“I’m sorry,” I say, closing my eyes, too. And it’s true. I hate myself for what I put him through.

He steps close to me and wraps his arms around my shoulders. I wrap mine around his waist, and he rests his head on top of mine. I’ve never liked being touched, but for some reason, I find comfort in his.

“I didn’t know you still felt that way. Nobody’s said anything…?”

“No,” I say. My voice is small. “But it’s what they don’t say. It’s the way they worry about me, and the way they pity me, and the way they all watch me like I’m a child. And it’s… I don’t know. Why did I do this to myself?”

He pulls away from me and grabs onto my arms gently. He looks me right in the eye, with his eyes bluer than the sky, and says, “You’ve gone through a lot. You-“

“Oh, don’t start with that bullshit about me being ‘strong’ or whatever. That’s not what it’s like and you know it.”

“I know. I know. Just- it doesn’t make you weak either. Everyone has problems. Everyone has shit to deal with. In this case, you had quite a lot. And you just…dealt with it differently than most people. But that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Why are you making me go to this party? Honest answer.”

“You know, I think you’re underestimating the effect you have on people. They like you.”

“Ah, yes, that’s why they ignored me until you took an interest in me.”

“Well, to be fair, you kind of closed yourself off. But you can be quite charming when you want to be.”

“Wow, thanks,” I say, freeing myself from his grasp.

“Wait,” he says, pulling me back. “Promise me you’ll come to me next time.”

“Next time-?”

“Next time you want to, you know.”

It bothers me that everyone just says “you know” or “you know what” or trails off instead of saying it. Instead of saying that I cut myself. I think that they’re ashamed of it, too. 

“I don’t think you’d want me to do that.”

“Why not?” he questions.

“I don’t want to bother you that often.”

“You don’t bother me.”

I don’t respond. I don’t want to become dependent on him. I don’t want to become that needy. It seems that it’s only when you need someone that they decide to leave. Or the world decides to take them away. 

“Well, let’s go then,” I decide. I check myself in the mirror one last time. I’m wearing a black button down shirt with a red tie and my nicest pair of black skinny jeans. Sally cut my hair a few days ago, but it’s still unruly. I don’t look as thin as I used too, but still too thin for someone my age and height. I look like I’m twelve. Jason, on the other hand, looks amazing. He’s wearing a blue button down that brings out his eyes with a pair of dark jeans. I keep staring at him on accident, and I’m pretty sure he knows. Oops. 

Percy, Annabeth, and Hazel are waiting for us in the kitchen. Percy’s wearing a purple tie that matches Annabeth’s blouse and Hazel’s in a pretty black dress. You know, I don’t really understand the point in getting dressed up just to see the friends you see everyday anyways.

People are weird.

Annabeth drives, and Hazel is a shotgun-calling queen, so Jason, Percy, and I are in the back. Jason holds my hand the entire way there, even though our palms get sweaty. Every time Jason looks away, Percy either, winks, makes a face, or wiggles his eyebrows at me. I stick my tongue at him right as Jason turns to look at me, and he raises his eyebrows, looking confused. Percy laughs into his hand and I shrug at Jason. 

When we arrive, Piper, Reyna, Leo, and Frank are sitting in a circle on the living room floor around a couple boxes of pizza and a few bottles of sparkling apple cider. We join them, and, feeling nervous, I sit unnecessarily close to Jason. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Piper gets up to hug me, and Reyna smiles at me. The others awkwardly tell me “hi”. As much as Jason says they like me, I really seem to make them uncomfortable. 

“So what’s happening,” Percy says as he helps himself to three slices of pizza. 

“Well, Reyna, Leo, and I have just discovered Frank has never played Truth or Dare in his entire life.”

He holds his hands up in defense. ‘My grandma is strict!”

“What?” Hazel says, appalled. “Truth or Dare, is like, the classic middle school game.”

“Well we’re not in middle school, are we? Personally, I don’t understand the appeal.” 

She pushes him playfully. “Well I vote we show him.”

“I second that,” Piper says, chewing happily on a piece of pizza.

I do not second that motion. Truth or Dare is the stuff of nightmares. I give Jason the most menacing glare I can muster, but he just squeezes my hand and says, ‘You don’t have to play if you don’t want to. But you have to eat something.” Then he slides me his plate.

I wrinkle my nose but he just gives me a look that says, “Well, go on.” Reluctantly, I take a bite. 

“So,” Piper says, clasping her hands together and sitting up straighter. “Frank, truth or dare?”

He shifts uncomfortably before saying, “Um… Dare?”

Piper smiles. “I dare you to do your best impression of Leo.”

Leo smirks. “Well he can try, but I’m one of a kind.”

Frank starts jiggling his legs and playing with his hands. He makes his voice go high pitched, way higher than Leo’s actually is, and says, “Well he can try, but I’m one of a kind.” Then he flexes his muscles and kisses them.

“Hey!” Leo protests. “I don’t do that. It’s more like you’re imitating Jason.”

“Halloween? Last year?”

“Oh,” Leo says, embarrassed. “That.”

Frank nods. “So is it my turn then?”

“Yup,” Piper says cheerfully. “Choose anyone in the room.”

“Jason,”

“Uh, truth,” Jason says nervously. 

“Hmm,” Frank considers. “How much time do you spend on your hair every morning?”

Jason laughs his easy, golden laugh. “What do you mean? I wake up with it like this.”

“Are you kidding?” Piper says. “He spends longer on his than I do on mine! At least half an hour.”

“Shh!” Jason tells her. “You’re ruining the illusion.”

“Trust me, man,” Leo says. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Leo,” Jason says narrowing his eyes evilly. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he says, without hesitation. 

“Let Piper do your makeup.”

Leo narrows his eyes back. But then he says, “Fine,” nonchalantly. “Bring it on.”

Piper excitedly runs upstairs and returns a few minutes later with a bag filled with what I presume to be makeup. Sure enough, she sits down in front of Leo and pulls out a bottle of skin-colored stuff. 

“My skin’s a little bit darker than yours, but this should do.”

She pours some of it onto her hand and begins dabbing it onto his skin with a little sponge. Surprisingly, it actually looks good; it evens out his skin tone. Then she pulls out some dark powder and applies it around his face, adding contour

“How’s it looking so far?” he asks.

Piper shushes him. “You’re ruining my concentration.”

Next she tells him to make fish lips and brushes this pink powdery stuff onto his cheeks. Then comes eyeliner and mascara and- voila.

He actually looks kind of pretty. 

He flutters his eyelashes and blows Jason a kiss. Then he flexes his muscles and kisses them, the way Frank did earlier. 

Everyone laughs, and I join in. 

“So, my turn to pick,” Leo says after the laughter dies down. “Beauty Queen! Truth or Dare?’

“Um… I feel that truth is a safer option at the moment.”

He nods. “Your mistake. Who’s a better kisser, Reyna or Jason?”

She spits out her drink. “What? How do you even know about that?”

“You’ve kissed Piper?” I demand, a little louder than I mean to.

Everyone laughs. Oops.

“Yeah, in like the sixth grade. I’m not sure that really counts.”

“Yeah, and, given as I am a raging homosexual, I think I’m going to have to go with Reyna. Sorry Jason.”

Jason pretends to look offended. 

“My turn again!” Piper says gleefully. “So, Percy,-”

“Oh, no,” he says.

“Truth or Dare?” 

“Um,” he turns to Annabeth. “What do you think?”

She shrugs. “Personally, I don’t think you’d look as good in blush as Leo does.”

“You’re right. Truth it is.”

“Truth…” Piper says, tapping her chin. “What’s your biggest insecurity?”

“I don’t have one,” he says, puffing up his chest. “I’m fearless.”

“Ha,” Annabeth says. “I call bullshit.”

He sticks his tongue out at her. “Fine. Um, I guess probably my, you know, ADHD and Dyslexia. Most people just tend to think I’m stupid. So yeah.”

“Aw,” Annabeth says with mock pity. “It’s not your fault your brain is full of seaweed.”

She laughs and kisses him.

It doesn’t even bother me.

Blushing, he pulls away. “So is it my turn, then? Um… Annabeth.”

“Dare,” she says, though she seems hesitant. I can’t imagine wanting to do a dare from Percy.

“Hm,” he says. “I dare you to shove an entire piece of pizza into your mouth.”

Everyone laughs. “Seriously, Percy?”

“What?” he says, innocently.

“You’re not very good at this,” Annabeth says. Nonetheless, she reaches forward and grabs a slice- a big one. She folds it up strategically before opening her mouth as wide as she can and shoving the whole thing in. 

Damn. I don’t think I could do that even if I wanted to.

Everyone cheers as she finishes chewing. She stands up and takes a bow.

“Nico,” she says turning to me.

Fuck. 

“Uh, yeah?”

“Truth or dare?”

Is there a third option? Truth seems like a really bad idea, but then again, if I do a dare it’ll draw too much attention to me.

Ultimately, I decide on dare.

She smiles slyly at me. “I dare you to go egg Dylan’s house.”

“Uh- What? How am I supposed to-?”

“He lives like three houses from here,” she informs me. “You have eggs, right, Pipes?”

She nods, jumping up and heading towards the kitchen. 

“It’s only like, ten,” I say, shaking my head. “They’re probably all still awake.”

“Well, you’ll just have to be sneaky, then, won’t you?”

Jason looks at me and shrugs. “He deserves it.”

I can’t argue with that. Slowly, I nod, and stand up. “Well, let’s go then.”

Everyone cheers. 

“Wait,” Piper says, coming back with a couple of cartons of eggs. “I’ll get face paint.”

“Is that really necessary, babe?” Reyna asks.

“Of course it is!” she says before disappearing up the stairs. 

Reyna looks to me and rolls her eyes.

“We might as well TP it, too,” Annabeth says. Then she follows Piper up the stairs. 

“Your friends are crazy,” I say, turning to Jason. 

“I know,” he says happily. 

Fifteen minutes later, we’re all walking in a big huddle to Dylan’s house, our faces streaked with black paint. I’m not sure what the point of it is, given none of us are really wearing black, and enough Christmas lights are still up that the street isn’t exactly dark, but whatever. Frank and Jason are each holding a huge package of toilet paper rolls, and I’ve got four cartons of eggs.

This probably isn’t going to end well. 

Once we arrive, Frank and Jason distribute the toilet paper. I try to pass out some eggs, but Annabeth says that it’s up to me to throw them all.   
“Nico takes the first throw!” Jason says, whispering loudly to the group. I glare at him. 

I pull one out and, as I get ready to throw it, I try to forget about everyone’s eyes on me. I try to remember how that applesauce felt sliding down my skin. I remember the bruises I’ve had all over my back from getting pushed into lockers. I remember every “faggot”, every “cocksucker”, every “do everyone a favor and kill yourself already”. I remember humiliation, I remember pain, I remember fear.

I close my eyes, swing my arm, and release the egg. 

“Shit,” Piper whispers. “You got his window.”

Everyone cheers- well, as loudly as they can without calling attention to our presence.

“Alright, everybody, fan out!” Annabeth says, and everyone follows her command. 

She comes up behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I nod. 

“Keep going,” she says before disappearing to the other side of the lawn. 

I throw another, this time aiming for the front door. Then another, and another, and another, until his entire house is decorated with random globs of yellow. Gross.

Everyone else is doing a good job, too; I can barely see the lawn anymore, because it’s covered with so much toilet paper. Jason somehow managed to get it all the way up on the roof, and Leo’s throwing it up in a tree with Hazel’s help. Frank and Annabeth are wrapping it around his car. Reyna, Piper, and Percy are decorating the flower bed with it.

Ah, revenge is sweet.

I’m about to throw another egg when the blinds on Dylan’s window are thrust open.

“Abort mission!” I shout as adrenaline pumps through my body, no longer bothering to be quiet. 

Then we run. 

As we do, I feel myself blending into the group. I’m in the very middle of it, but instead of freaking me out, this makes me feel safe and included. We’ve already reached the safety of Piper’s front doorstep by the time Dylan even makes it outside. Once we’re inside her front living room, we all collapse on the floor in fits of laughter.

“Ah, man, did you guys see his face?” Leo asks. “It was like-“ He makes a comically surprised face.

“That’ll show him,” Piper says.

I can’t remember ever having so much fun in my life.

But when Jason asks if I’m sure I don’t want to stay all night, I say yes. So much interaction has exhausted me.

Besides, I want to be alone with him. 

As we get ready to go, Annabeth comes up to me. “Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, about that day in the kitchen. When we asked if you were trying to starve yourself. It’s just- I used to have an eating disorder. I thought I recognized the symptoms in you.”

“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “And, um, it’s fine. No big deal.”

She flashes me a smile. “I hope you get better, though.”

Then she hugs me, and I let her.

“Thank you,” I say, blinking back tears.

Reyna, Piper, and Hazel all come to hug me goodbye. For some reason, Reyna holds onto me the longest.

As we’re walking out the door, Leo shouts, “Use protection!”

Jason runs back in to hit him. 

Then he joins me in the car.

As we drive away, he says, “You know, I was almost expecting you to like, freak out and run away. But you did good.” 

“I wanted to. Several times.”

“But you didn’t.”

A silence falls over us, and he turns on the radio. Some old Elvis song comes on.

“You know, all of your friends are fucked up.”

“What?”

“Reyna had a drug addiction. Piper cut herself. Annabeth had an eating disorder.”

“Leo’s mom was killed in a fire he accidentally started when he was just a little kid.”

“Shit, what?”

He nods. “Frank’s mom died in Iraq. He lives with his Grandma now, because his father was abusive.”

“Damn,” I say. “I had no idea…”

“Of course you didn’t. Because you keep shutting them all out. But this is what I’ve been trying to tell you. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. We’re all fucked up in our own way. It’s not just you.’

I don’t respond the rest of the ride home. 

The house is empty; Percy and Hazel stayed at Piper’s house, and Paul and Sally are at a party at their friend’s house. Jason and I have the place to ourselves. Still, though, after we make ourselves hot chocolate in the kitchen, we head up the stairs, into my room, and onto the roof. 

This has sort of just become a thing with us. 

“So,” Jason says loudly. “Thought of a New Year’s Resolution?”

I scoff. “What’s the point? I always forget about those after a few days, anyways.”

“It’s a tradition!” he says, pretending to be outraged. “I’ve got one.”

“Oh, really?” I say. “And what’s that?”

“To become even more awesome than I already am.”

He winks at me.

“Well, good luck with that,” I say as I grab his hand. “You’ve already set a pretty high standard for yourself.”

“True,” he laughs. “So what’s yours, then?”

I pull his arm onto my lap, still holding his hand. I run my fingers over his forearm. Then I roll my own sleeve up and do the same to my arm. His looks so different from mine; Mine’s covered in these ugly red lines. His looks the way it’s supposed to. Like a blank slate.   
“The new year is supposed to be all about starting over, right?” I say.

“Right.”

“I just wish I could start over. I wish I could go back and undo all of this. Everything. The past like, ten years of my life.”

I rest my head against his shoulder and he pulls his hand away from mine to wrap his arm around me. I hate myself for it, but I start to cry. All I ever do is cry.

“Hey,” he says as he gently grabs my face and pulls it closer to his. “Look at me.”

He wipes the tears pooling beneath my eyes. “It’s going to be okay. Hey, look, it’s two minutes until midnight.”

I pull away from him. “I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss before, you know.” 

“Neither have I, actually.”

“Really?”

“Is it that surprising?”

“Given you’ve got a face like a male model and every girl in school is falling all over you, yeah,” I say, sniffling.

“Oh, well, lucky you,” he jokes. “One minute left.”

One minute.

Thirty seconds.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

As he kisses me, the sky explodes into fireworks. 

Afterwards, there’s a moment, a perfect moment, in which neither of us speak. Neither of us speak, because we don’t need to. It’s almost bittersweet, though, because I know the moment will be over soon, and I know we’ll never get it back. One day, we’ll forget about it. But for now, as we look out at the stars, we feel as though we’re looking out at infinity.

Jason is the one to break the silence.

“My name is Jason Grace, I’m seventeen years old, and I’m a cancer.”

“Um, what are you doing?” I say, sitting up higher to look at him.

He gives me this perfect smile, and I find myself wishing I could grab it and put it in my pocket so that I could carry it everywhere I go. Then he says, “I’m starting over.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I would be really grateful if you could review this because I plan on giving it to my sister as a present, and want it to be as good as possible when I do. Thank you! xxx


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